Detachable Penis

I woke up this morn­ing with a bad hang­over
And my penis was miss­ing again.
This hap­pens all the time.
It’s detach­able.
[back­ground singing begins: “detach­able penis” over and over]
This comes in handy a lot of the time.
I can leave it home, when I think it’s gonna get me in trou­ble,
or I can rent it out, when I don’t need it.
But now and then I go to a par­ty, get drunk,
and the next morn­ing I can’t for the life of me
remem­ber what I did with it.
First I looked around my apart­ment, and I could­n’t find it.
So I called up the place where the par­ty was,
they had­n’t seen it either.
I asked them to check the med­i­cine cab­i­net
’cause for some rea­son I leave it there some­times
But not this time.
So I told them if it pops up to let me know.
I called a few peo­ple who were at the par­ty,
but they were no help either.
I was start­ing to get des­per­ate.
I real­ly don’t like being with­out my penis for too long.
It makes me feel like less of a man,
and I real­ly hate hav­ing to sit down every time I take a leak.
After a few hours of search­ing the house,
and call­ing every­one I could think of,
I was start­ing to get very depressed,
so I went to the Kiev, and ate break­fast.
Then, as I walked down Sec­ond Avenue towards St. Mark’s Place,
where all those peo­ple sell used books and oth­er junk on the street,
I saw my penis lying on a blan­ket
next to a bro­ken toast­er oven.
Some guy was sell­ing it.
I had to buy it off him.
He want­ed twen­ty-two bucks, but I talked him down to sev­en­teen.
I took it home, washed it off,
and put it back on. I was hap­py again. Com­plete.
Peo­ple some­times tell me I should get it per­ma­nent­ly attached,
but I don’t know.
Even though some­times it’s a pain in the ass,
I like hav­ing a detach­able penis.
[back­ground voic­es con­tin­ue to sing “detach­able penis” for a while, then out]