Shel Silverstein

September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999 / Chicago/ Illinois

Freakin’ At The Freaker’s Ball - P

Come on, baby, grease your lips,
Put on your hat, and shake your hips.
And don’t forget to bring your ships.
We’re goin’ to the Freakers Ball.
Shake your mojo, bang your gong,
Roll up somethin’ to take along.
Feels so good that it must be wrong
Freakin’ at the Freakers Ball.

All the fags and dykes, they’re boogyin’ together
Leather freaks all dressed in leather.
The greatest of the sadists and the masochists, too,
Screamin’ 'You hit me' and 'I’ll hit you'.
F.B.I. dancin’ with the junkies.
All the straights swingin’ with the funkies
’Cross the floor and up the wall.
Freakin’ at the Freakers Ball.

Hard hats and long hairs lovin’ each other.
Brother with sister, son with mother.
Smear my body up with butter.
Take me to the Freakers Ball.
So pass that roach, pour the wine.
I’ll kiss yours and you’ll kiss mine.
I’m gonna boogie til I go blind.
Freakin’ at the Freakers Ball.
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