Chinese masseuse, comes between us   Talks in haikus, plastic venus.   Got a headrush, in her pocket   Two rubbers two lubes, and a silver rocket      Hang on, hang on   To your iq, to your id   Hang on, hang on   To your iq, to your id      I'm lonely      Every morning, my eyes will open wide   I gotta get high, before I go outside.   Roll another, for breakfast   Burning clouds around, and in my solar plexus.      Hang on, hang on   To your iq, to your id   Hang on, hang on   To your iq, to your id      I'm lonely      Legs eleven, makes me stay up late   Two fat ladies on my back, and now it's 88.   I'm a fool, whose tool is small   It's so miniscule, it's no tool at all.      Hang on, hang on   To your iq, to your id   Hang on, hang on   I'm lonely      Oh.