Staring at the lifeguardsnHear mommy screamnI ain't got no moralsnIt's a bloody wayout dreamnThe noon-day sun makes you want to killnnMining all beachesnFlying hands and feetnPoison in your ThermosnIs no fun but discreetnMuscle Beach is now Pork Chop HillnnBarbecuring babiesnShish-kabob bikinisnNapalm makes you vomitnAs it sizzles off your weenienSurf combatn