It was late one night, I was home alone. I was reading The New York Post
Another article about Amy Fisher, the girl we love to hate the most
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move on my rug
It was brown. it was shiny. It had a lotta legs. Good God, it's a great big bug!
I jumped up, started breathing real heavy. My heart was beginning to pound
If my neighbor coulda heard right through these walls, she'd think a love thing was goin' down
I threw the newspaper on top of the bug, started stomping all over the place
So sorry, Amy, don't take it personally what I did to your face
I'm not afraid of the water. I'm not afraid to fly
But when I see a great big bug, I know that one of us must die
I jumped back - everything got really quiet, then the newspaper started to rustle
Suddenly two antennae emerged - oh, look at that big bug hustle
Ran right into my bathroom, hid behind the blue trash basket
I turned on the light, rolled up the paper, said, "Say hello to your casket."
I don't know how he did it, but that bug just disappeared
It's the middle of the night - I've got no bug spray. Haven't needed it for years
So I poked around with a coat hanger, swished around with a broom
But I had to get to sleep, so I announced to the bug, "Tomorrow you'll meet your doom."
I'm not afraid of the water. I'm not afraid to fly
But when I see a great big bug, I know that one of us must die
The next morning I woke up in a cold sweat - It was time to resume the chase
I rolled up the Post making sure the point of impact was Joey Buttafuoco's face
But I poke and I search and I look and I poke, but I just could not find that bug
Till I get this sinking feeling I should take a peek in the tub
There it is! It's so big! There's no way I can get near
So I look around to find some kind of lethal object here
Shampoo? Nope. Q-tips? Nope. There must be something in this room
That's when I find the weapon of choice: Elizabeth Taylor's Passion perfume
I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray. He tries to climb up out of the tub
Though he slides right back on his slippery tracks - he's not giving up!
So I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray, but he keeps running around
Eureka! I put the plunger on top of him. That oughta keep him down
Just then, the telephone rings. I say, "Hi, this is Chris. Can't talk. Call you back."
My friend on the phone says, "What's going on? Sounds like you're having a heart attack."
So I tell him about the monstrous bug I've lust imprisoned with my plunger
And he says, "That's easy. Just pump up and down a couple of times. That oughta put him under."
I'm not afraid of the water. I'm not afraid to fly
But when I see a great big bug, I know that one of us must die
Now the plunger is stuck hard to the tub. I'm afraid to pull it free
But my friend on the phone says, "You can do it! Show some New York bravery."
I pull it off with a thwack! But the bug's still alive! He keeps running around again
So I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray, and it runs right down the drain
And I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray, 'cause I can't stop
I praise the Lord for Elizabeth Taylor, then spray out the last few drops
Then I scream and I scream and I scream and I scream, stuff the newspaper in the drain
I may have won this battle, but I know that bug is gonna rise again
So now I live in fear of a great big bug that smells like a movie queen
Afraid it's gonna come back to act out a sequel to this death-defying scene
But I'm prepared: I've sprayed a little Raid on my wrists, wear Roach Motels on my ears
And this rolled up copy of The New York Post helps me cope with my fears
I'm not afraid of the water. I'm not afraid to fly
But when I see a great big bug, I know that one of us must die