Chorus
I’m filling up my spare tire
Without a thought to my attire
It needs a little pumping up
With deep-fried food in my gut
My stomach hungers, growls and snares
When I smell that deep-fried air
The smell it wafts up my nose
To fast food my spare tire owes
Then my taste buds all arise
Demanding a burger and French fries
with jaljo penio poppers, or
cheese curds on the side — Mmmmm
My mind it goes a soothing blank
And deep-fried foods is who I thank
Thoughts get fuzzy as a fog
And my insides get all clogged
Bridge?
I’m filling up my spare tire
We wouldn’t want it to go flat
Then I’ll sit around and snooze
Like a lazy fat cat
With all the deep-fried foods I eat
My tire gets pumped, so does my seat
Chorus
I’m filling up my spare tire
Without a thought to my attire
It needs a little pumping up
With deep-fried food in my gut