My amazing talking moustache,
Will not make a sound,
She's shy you see, my Anne-Marie,
For fear of being found.
I've never heard her speak a word,
Although I know she speaks,
Still a good friend, here years on end,
She's grown on me each week.
Though now I think about it more,
She only brings me down,
When I converse, her heavy berth,
Just weighs me to a frown.
I know exactly what I'll do,
To the bathroom I head,
Pick up the razor, hand does not waver,
I cut that b*tch to shreds.