Enemy of Beauty

We’re lovely, we’re perfect, we’re youthful
But ask to name our ages, you would never guess
We are each 93, and I’m sure you’ll agree
Father Time must have lost our address
Most people think that we’re models
Policemen daily ask us why we’re not at school
That’s 'cause our faces are a vision of perfection
No troughs or wrinkles, oh, we’re open to inspection
We’ve got the secret of a fabulous complexion
So to fight decay, and keep old age at bay
You must follow this golden rule
Mobility’s the enemy of beauty
Our skin is stapled to our skulls with metal clips
And our legs look much improved, since our kneecaps were removed
And recycled in our artificial hips
Oh, eating can be rather tricky
One may not masticate with a frozen jaw
So we’re quite cock-a-hoop at a nice bowl of soup
For we haven’t eaten solids since the war
All day, we’re busy with procedures
We’re injected in our bottoms with fermented kelp
Later, a special cryogenic siesta
Then we sandblast our colons to fill us full of zest again
Finally, we dress, but then it’s time to get undressed again
What a busy day, we gently drift away
With this simple mantra of self-help
Mobility’s the enemy of beauty
In pursuit of endless youth, we will never flag
Our surgeon uses slivers left over from Joan Rivers
To plump up all those horrid bits that sag
Mobility’s the enemy of beauty
Our vaginas have been tightened so they grip like hell
And for extra satisfaction, we can offer the attraction
Of a hymen up our anuses as well
Mobility’s the enemy of beauty
Of Leslie Ash’s lips, we’re enormous fans
To our lines, it’s sayonara
Our idol’s Kate O’Mara
But never never never
You must be very clever
No, never ever ever show your hands