Moist - Simon Helberg

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

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