Gold chain Bronze skin Cheese brain Holes Yes, Gorgon Zola rules the
Beach She strolls, she kicks some sand - the mild man winces, clears his
Eyes Despises her She's tall and cruel and cool as sour cream His dreams
Are dry She'll paralyze - an icepick in his spine She'll fine him when
His wheelchair's parked on double yellow lines He takes it because he has
To because he's built like stale spaghetti Zola's pointing the machete
- so he jumps!