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Sneering at the leering lady as she stares and squirms At Wanda with her saintly smile and living wig of worms I like to watch their faces fall as we disgust and shame them Seeking suckers is my game -- no longer lion taming. Like a pink and pregnant pumpkin perched upon her neck Wanda Wadkins head was hurting it was bitten by insects I watched the awkward way she waddled walking to the pail She always used to wash her worms and clean beneath her nails. I love the should I see inside her but I just can't love her Folding fat that rolls around like bowling balls in butter... Wanda Wanda Wanda... Watch me watch me watch me Won't you watch me for a while Watch me pick my worms up And put them in a pile Watch me sit upon it with My Mona Lisa smile. Why Wanda why, do I always watch you cry? From Letras Mania