Uhh, children, this is a song I wrote about our good friend Kenny McCormick, who recently passed away. I'd like you to buy the CD this comes out on, OK, my little crackers?
Goodbye little Kenny
Though we hardly... know ya at all
You have the grace to nix yourself And the rats around you crawl
They crawl out of the woodwork
And they scamper... up to your brain
They drag you and digest you
And then they leave your remains And it seems to me, you live your lives
like a flannel-hooded kid
Never knowing what has killed you When the rats dig in
I'd say we'd like to save you
But I'd be lying to ya kid
Your demise is what we're waiting for
You're our kick-the-bucket kid The flagpole plunge was rough
And don't forget the... Microwave
You are South Park's sacrifice A homage to our sick, perverted brains
Every time you die
We are struck by Cartman's... apathy
Only Kyle or Stan will say
"Oh My God, they killed Kenny!" And it seems to me, you live your lives
like a flannel-hooded kid
Never knowing what has killed you When the rats dig in
I'd say we'd like to save you
But I'd be lying to ya kid
Your expiration's worth waiting for
You're our kick-the-bucket kid Goodbye hooded friend
Though you come back in every... episode
We sense you are disturbed by this
More than Trey Parker or Matt Stone
And it seems to me, you live your lives
like a flannel-hooded kid
Never knowing what has killed you When the rats dig in
I'd say we'd like to save you
But I'd be lying to ya kid
Your annihilation's worth waiting for
You're our kick-the-bucket kid
(with fervor) And it seems to me, you live your lives
like a serene counterbid!
Never knowing what will bag you
You muffled-speaking foul-mouthed kid! I'd say we'd like to save you
But I'd be lying to ya kid
Your annihilation's worth waiting for
You're our kick-the-bucket kid