Simon Cowell’s Bright Red Tits

 

He’s the music devil incarnate, a self-denying caveman
And now he’s got a child. Oh great – is it called Damien?

It’s an omen, it’s an omen
And his chest hair has got nits
Roamin’ in the gloamin’
Simon Cowell’s bright red tits

Has he not punished us enough, do we still have to suffer?
Has he shagged the three billy goats gruff, the irritating duffer
In Timbuktu they hate him too
In Timperley and Tyndrum
Everybody has got Irritable Cowell Syndrome

Bigger than Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits
Simon Cowell’s bright red tits

He’s got a Russian counterpart
He’s gorgeous and enticing
He’d melt the hardest Russian heart
Quicker than some ricin

 

from the EP The Pithy Tweets Of Moran

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