Acetone

butter my bread, but her mother said no

why choose white shoes for your toes

i’d rather work alone than wear cologne

mad hatter had her riddled with acetone

with acetone

with acetone

with acetone

finite, your fine height when you grow

the stuff he knows gives me a stuffy nose

caesar shouts seize her from the phone

some mothers let some others chaperone

chaperone

chaperone

chaperone

tulips for your two lips, quid pro quo

a nice man, an ice man eskimo

see them eat, see the meat fall off the bone

real eyes realize…. it’s acetone

acetone

acetone

acetone

Lyrics by Tommy Arnspiger