You're crashing into the wall
You stumble and you fall but meantime
South of the waistline you stop and you hold everything
A breeze is blowing cold air through your undies
You feel embarrassed when they see your ding-a-ling

You step inside but you don't see too many faces
Nobody looks at a dumb ass when his zipper's down
Too much flirtation in other places
But the chicks run when THEY come around
Way on down south
Way on down south
Out of town

You check out Curious George he swings from all the cords
Mind he's strictly simian he's got lots of poop to fling
And an old banana is all he can afford
When he climbs up on the ropes to yell and swing
And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make no sense
He works at Piggly Wiggly, he's doing alright
He can play video games just like anything
Staying home on Friday night
With the Sultans
With the Sultans of Stupid

And a crowd of young boys they're drooling on the ground in the corner
Drunk and messed in their best brown baggies and their boxers all
They don't give a damn about any decent sounding band
It ain't what they call Headbanger's Ball
And the Sultans
And the Sultans played awful
(awful)

And then the man he smacks right in to the microphone
And in his head a little tiny bell rings
Look out, goodnight, now it's time to fall down
And he falls down fast with one more thing
We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of Stupid.