[SIMON]
Nobody wants to be moist
A bunch of overactive pores
I struggle opening doors
And I lose every tug of war

Nobody wants to be wet
Though sweet soul I do secrete
Can't make damp fingers snap to the beat

The microphone is dripping
My baritone is slipping
A rhyme into this line I'll have to foist
Nobody want to be moist

Nobody wants to be moist
Though on the dance floor I glide
On stairs I'm petrified
(That's how Harry Wismer died)

Nobody wants to be soaked
Though it is with a graceful ease
I deduce in which way blows the breeze
Yeah-heh-heh-ha!

Oh, sure I have the power
To make paste from a powder
But last time I did that no one rejoiced
Nobody want to be moist
[SPOKEN:] What's that Mom? I have to solo? Okay

A man so ancillary
My little song is buried
Not till the Commentary! is it voiced
Nobody wants to be
Nobody wants to be
Nobody wants to be moist