Turkey of the Tundra

Surviving in the arctic; not much of a conundra I rely on penguins: the turkey of the tundra One thing for em: they haven't got much meat But the one thing against em: not fast on their feet A penguin spear, a penguin net, a penguin holding pit All you P.E.T.A. piss flaps can fucking eat my shit I cook em up and cut em down and put em in my cellar But I don't always do it in that particular order Penguin hunting is my favourite pass-time for the night When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right Surviving frozen tundra is easier to do With the salted penguin meat; that I keep in my igloo I'd be lying, if I said they didn't suffer I need something to do while I wait for porn to buffer Killing them I find most cathartic When it angers me to light fires in the arctic Penguins are quite smaller then I thought I got five or six in this motherfucking pot Let's get cookin He's got a spatula Lets fucking fry When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right I live an an igloo Its a dark and lonely place My friends are the penguins And they don't know what's happenin Cause I butchered their mom I'm eating her up tonight Tonight Tonight Tonight When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right When they're spiced just right