The Bliss of a Bris lyrics
The Bliss of a Bris
When I was eight days old a crowd gathered in my room.
With a man in a robe and had something shiny in his hand.
And he said behold the fruit of his mother's womb.
And he spoke in a language that I couldn't even understand.
And the people squealed as my manhood was revealed.
And he held it up for everyone to see.
They said it was "DIVINE".
And they toasted it with wine.
And behaved as though it had a pedigree.
Ah the bliss of a brist.
When they all congregate to admire your penis.
They stare.
And the glare of their idolization is brighter than Venus.
They're awed.
They applaud as they thrill at the sight of it's dazzling perfection.
They gasp as they grasp how sublime it will be when it has an erection.
They rave at the length and the marvelous angle.
They fell at the girth and they plot at the dangle.
It doesn't get better than this. The bliss of a brist.
You suppose that these roses are going to be thrown every day.
Ah but then they snip off the tip once you've shown it.
And that's when they say "don't expose it again".
But I do. I'll show you.
And then you may commence complimenting and cooing.
So gaze. Give it praise.
Like a Liz Taylor movie with Rex Reed reviewing.
Acclaim it, adore it, extoll it, exalt it.
Rejoice in it's glory. For God's sake don't fault it.
Fawning and flattering, worshipping, swooning.
Remember it doesn't need any more pruning.
Just say "It's like butter."
So now they go cut her.
Bask in it's splendor.
Unplug the blender.
No sharp objects near it.
Simply revere it.
Oh how I miss the bliss of a brist.
Last Update: June, 19th 2013