Aching to Pupate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pup-p-pate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pup-p-pate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pupate, pu-pupate, pupate

Pupate, pu-pupate, pupate

I should peddle butterflies

There's a shortage in the city

I'll stand on a street corner

All mysterious and giddy

When the passersby pass by

I will open up my trench coat

They will see the butterflies

Dangling like fake Rolexes

Every morning, I wake up

With a purpose and a smirk

I'll put on my fake mustache

I'll drink Heineken, eat cornflakes

Then I'll call my mom and dad

Tell them that I'm doing fine

Or I'll write a tipsy letter

To a real good friend of mine

Or I'll jump up on the bed

Waltzing madly with a broomstick

But before I leave the house

I will fill my lips with lipstick

But peddling is a dirty sport

There's competition in the city

Everyone is on a street corner

All mysterious and giddy

Some are selling bags and shoes

Some are selling books and gold

I've been standing here for days

Not one butterfly's been sold

And how I'm

Aching to pupate

Aching to pup-p-pate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pup-p-pate

Aching to pupate

Aching to pupate, pu-pupate, pupate

Pupate, pu-pupate, pupate