Bolt a smidge' of pie.
The trek inside is serpentine.
Hunger screams subside.
The itchy-poo arse, that's where pie streams.

What of the juice there? - It's appli-ied.
What of the meal there? - It gets dri-ied.
But why's the rear there? - Tell you why-y . . .

We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.
We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.

It needs some time to flow to hind,
Gets wrung up, knead the muck that was munched.
You maul the chow infused throughout.
Eat light and have plums when you lunch.

You fill your gut with food (then swill some brew).
It's time to stow the chow you chewed.
You can squish out stool. (What that be?)
The load you turned to turds and fuel.

How will your mood fare? - You'll just si-igh.
How will your butt fare? - It just compli-ies.
But why'd the rear tear? - I'll tell you why-y . . .

We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.
We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.

You feel the slime and flow of chyme,
When hung up, need to buck up and hunch.
It all comes out the tube that's stout,
Sit tight, then salve butt when it's scrunched.

We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.
We're all just tubular. Squat!

We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.
We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.
We're all just tubular. We're all just tubular.