Je m'appelle J. Cousteau

I was there at the cable fair Where lump fairies swear at glories far beyond the fabric that she wears He said "Do you wanna chair?" I'd join him anywhere! A hole in the ground, in this theatre I found J.C.'s infernal horde They caper, they banter, forming human pyramids, all to please Their infernal Lord... Whoa! His name is J. Cousteau!!! A pussy and I know you know!! I know you know, and there he goes He goes and grows Oh gosh he knows Aboard the Calypso!! The foam beside, and a burly sea to ride, all spell goodness for the master of the whirling pimple tides He tried and pried until the rusted hinges sighed, and then he stepped inside! He found her there, swimming in her seaweed hair, looking vaguely like a lover who has hung herself with underwear Phosphoresent green and the sex-act made obscene, in Jacques galleon of hatred This wrinkled French man is a living GOD!!! Cousteau, you know, where the dying dolphinsgo, and the wasteland ever growing, never slowing till it's far below Put it on your T.V. show - And let the humans know!!!