Standing in a stupor by the tank 
Better call the super 
As I grip the towel rack for strength 
Studied all these cracks before 
Stuff the towel beneath the door 
Crawling up all upon the floor 
And wait for it to pass 
Hear the faucet dripping 
As his brain is slipping into mud 
Man I think he's tripping 
Better pull his head out of the bowl 
And as the ceiling starts to bleed 
He carefully begins to read 
The label on the toilet seat 
It's like warning of some kind 
As his face turns bluish 
And his eyes roll back into his head 
The funeral was Jewish 
All the mourners traveled in one car 
They remembered he had said 
You're never lonely when you're dead 
And as the final rights were read 
The angels start to sing 
Soaky in the pooper