His Majesty the good King Rex who thinks his wife don't like no sex
Will be loathe to hear the truth I fear, but still, I'll dare to bend his ear
He used to shower everyday up until the 10th of May
Now just once a week will do and only if he just has to
Can't kiss him if I want to. His mouth is full of butts and brew
With cigarette hanging from his lips, I'm afraid he'll burn my tits
The air is stale, the whole house reeks. I haven't smelled fresh clothes in weeks
My nose is stuffy, my eyes burn. It's enough to make my stomach turn
My kids' hair should smell so sweet, except that in the summer heat
Their sweat makes stale smoke odor shout. These days his sanity I doubt
He's gotten lazy, old and fat; pampered like his late pet rat
He likes to sit upon his shelf and play computer with himself
His number one priority is recording movies on TV
Around the tube he builds his life; not around his kids and wife
He doesn't golf, he won't square-dance; nothing to his health enhance
But offer him just half a chance; from bar to bar he will advance
Five day old socks worn on his feet; dirty ashtrays by his seat
Discarded butts are everywhere; the yard, the street and here and there
Coffee breath, cigarettes and pit. I tell you he smells worse than shit
His breath is bad, his body stinks. I don't like sex no more he thinks
Truth is I like sex a lot, but getting past his scent is not
An easy thing, you see, as I lay there beneath of he
Why himself he doesn't smell; his nose just isn't working well
Congested sinuses I'll bet made worse by all the cigarettes.