The tiger flashes sharpened teeth Bowler-hatted, summer briefs Beneath his pinstriped skin To kill demands a business sense Economy moves non-residence Approaching from down-winds
Being a tiger means you laugh Whenever lesser tigers have to eat Meat that's infected Being a tiger means your mate When overfed will defecate In places least expected
And knowing a tiger means you must Accept his promise of mutual trust And offer him your throat Loving a tiger means you take Second place to the cake you bake And with undying servile obedience
Keep the stiffly starched collar Of his conference shirt spotless And remove daily the daubed bloody evidence If his dastardly misdeeds From the otherwise immaculate elegance Of his pinstripe tiger coat period
Read more: Jethro Tull - Law Of The Bungle Lyrics | MetroLyrics
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