He goes by the name of Comatose Cakes Penguin
A black and white tuxedoed fish-bird
Marching up and down and side to side
On his own little private island
He takes a lot of naps
75 hours at a time
These aren't naps
These are comas
His friends joke and laugh
Mr. Cakes just ignores them
Knowing he'll be down for a coma
In a little while
They have made fun of him
Since he was a little penguin
Pushing my and making him
Eat bread slices dipped in salt juices
Mr. Comatose Cakes Penguin
Where did you go
Under the water?
Behind a rock? Oh there you are!
In the wide open snow field
Watch out Mr. Cakes your friends are right behind you
A wedgie here
A swirly there
He ain't got the guts to push them away
Forced into awkward situations
He tries his best
Mr. Cakes tries his best
Buried in an empty grave
Comatose Cakes Penguin has failed
A good man
But unable to retreat from the torture room
That his friends made
Strung up like Christmas lights
And dismembered one part at a time
Comatose Cakes Penguin will have his revenge