I got my first real g-string
thought it fitted fine
Bent over, in the hot sunshine
it cheese-wired into my line

thank god some guys from school
Lent a hand and pulled real hard
it hurt like hell, and confused poor Larry,
I shoulda known to use grease or lard

Oh I shoulda bought Speedo,
those trunks seem to last forever
And if I had the choice
I dont want a g-string in there
That was the worst sale of my life

Ain't no use in complainin'
Though my crack is now four inches wide
Spend my evenin's doing nothin but sittin
And shittin bricks outta my four inch hide

Runnin for my boxer shorts,
oh i'll wear you forever
Oh i'll stay on the land
No matter what the weather
I'll never wear beachwear again

Oh my cheese-wired line

Man it was rippin mine
I tied up my tackle
I needed to unwind
I glad nothin' can last forever - forever, no

And now my hind is healin'
My boxers are permanently on
Sometimes when I see that bloody g-string
I think about all that went wrong

Fearing a cavity search
the hole seemed to go on ad infinitum
Oh the thought of a hand
reaching up to my duodenum
Oh it scares me out of my life

But now my rim is fine