You’re the top, you are Wally’s ticker;
You’re the top, you’re a quiz by Bricker.
You’re a symphony that is played by Ike and Sax—
You are Chief the sailor,
You’re Kelli’s trailer,
You’re Green’s wisecracks!
You’re the hair on the guy named Satan,
You are fair, like the girl he’s matin’,
You’re an afternoon without a single crash;
You’re Manhattan’s swains,
You’re David’s brains—
You’re Neuro-trash!
You are Whack; you are simply ducky;
You’re a crack, that is made by Bucky!
You’re a Winkleried and a Mullinator, too;
You’re Espirix’s dildo,
A post by Billdo,
You’re a cowgodmoo!
You’re a roll that the Chef is smellin’,
You’re a troll for the late Miss Melin,
I’m LBMB,
I’m Heatherlee, a flop!
But if baby, I’m the bottom—
You’re the top!
I once heard someone comment that if the Ramones had written this song, it would have gone, “You’re the top, you’re the top, you’re the top, you’re the top, baby you’re the top.” But I like Eve’s re-write better.
Dr. J
“Seriously, baby, I can prescribe anything I want!” -Dr. Nick Riviera