Biped my God
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the Comics you have made
I see the scars
I hear the rolling farting
Thy Pow'r throughout Stripcre-a-tor displayed
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art! How great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art, how Great thou art!
When through the ro-bot factories I wander
And see the Dolph Lundgrens a-spewin' there
Or journey to the center of the asshole
Of Vin Diesel, a pleasure oh so rare
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art! How great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art, how Great thou art!
And when I think, Biped, your wit not sparing
Built Robot Joe, I scarce can take it in
That rebuilt Joe, Mom's three course dinner bearing,
Wound up in hell, for our great chuckle-in'
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art! How great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art, how Great thou art!
When I shall order one mil-lion of all things
And be denied, what shall I order 'stead?
Of course, a toy tricycle they shall then bring
One with a clown, so says the great Biped.
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art! How great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Biped God, to thee
How great thou art, how Great thou art!
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Shoulda.