Run into me sometime when you're not being dorky.

When you're not it's like biting into that apple that
Snow White bit into from that old hag woman with
the warts on her nose and stuff. It drips off my
chin and it taste like poison and my eyelids start
to kind of close--

but it tastes so good--

good.

And if you ever wanna stick my guitar somew-
here it doesn't shine, you're welcome to.

But not my guitar.

Play me another musical instrument while
I toot your horn and you feed another one
of those apples you keep in a basket.

They're delicious.