Nothing for weak stomachs...

Sticky hands from cotton candy
a pickle gave me salty lips
you nudge me toward another dandy
big and tall and full of twists.

We stand in line,
I want to leave
don't want to be here
you're begging me "Please!!"

How could I deny you fun
you grin from one ear to the other,
so we climb in this scary run
and all I can think is "Oh' brother.."

We're sitting tight
the steel bar shuts
I'm clamped in this seat
no room for my guts

The beast is going into motion
pulling up toward the sky,
you repeat your earlier notion
"This is a blast!" but I could cry.

You scream in sweet anticipation
you raise your arms above your head,
I'd rather be somewhere else in the Nation
wished I hadn't had fried bread.

First we hover for a moment
way above the good Lord's earth,
and then an unknown source of power
propels us toward certain death.

The car we sit in is shaking wildly,
rattling, screeching, deafening sound,
as we're racing not just mildly
way too fast back to the ground.

The tracks in front I can not see
I'm blinded by a tunnel,
I close my eyes and pray a plea
to survive this horrible funnel.

I'm trying to relax a little
I hope this ride is almost done
I'm thankful that my bones ain't brittle.
My eyes get pierced from the bright sun.

Eventually this nightmare stops
as we climb out I feel the blues,
sweat on my brow in tiny drops
I turn my head, puke on your shoes.