There's a punk I know who goes to shows
Covered in filth from his dreads to his toes
There's a quality that follows him wherever he goes
How one could smell so fucking bad nobody knows
Society's against his bodily smell
But he thinks society can go to hell
Even at shows he makes people upset
Just by standing around and emitting his scent
His life isn't easy, things are getting worse
He just has to live with his foul-stench curse
But like a fine wine that improves with age
His sinister odor escapes from it's cage
It's now gotten so powerful, so sour and strong
It's effects are incredible, toxic and long
Inebriating those who can smell his smell
With a fantastic high that feels so swell
Suddenly he's popular, with girls and men
Even got offered a job that pays almost ten
The life of the party, and everyone's friend
Society's grudge against him has come to an end
He's now got some money, and freshly painted walls
All thanks to the fact he never washed his balls
So the moral of the story is don't ever shower