You ask me why I always dress in red
And why I have these horns upon my head
And why my meager codpiece is a rolled up sock                                               
Well there’s reasons for this thing 
stuffed in my jock

 
I wear the red for the perverts and the punks
the geeks the freaks the bar ho’s and the drunks
I wear the red for the businessmen who secretly wear panties
and for the white boys with dreadlocks and for their grannies

And the red’s for those for whom getting laid is hard
So it forces them to learn to play guitar
I wear the red for the cougars and for those  in Facebook jail 
and for balding men who  still have ponytails.
 
The red’s for those who never gazed upon
The writings in the necronomicon
for sacrifices never made and spells you’ve never used
I tell you all Chthulhu’s not amused
 
I wear it for the groupie just engaged
Who blew my roadie trying to get backstage
but the guy was not my roadie – he was just some horny liar
I wear the red for these people that you gotta admire.
 
The red’s for those who sin and live free of guilt
And girls who get pierced below the belt
an you may think that wearing these red tights is kind of wacky but
You’ll never see me dressed in plaid or khakis

therapy is just one day a week
If I didn’t do this gig I’d prob’ly tweak
I’ll never have that threesome with Kim Kardashian and Britny Spears
So I wear the red cause I’m crying in my beer
 
Well I don’t relate to folks in normal ways
I’m socially retarded to this day
And until the shrinks can cure me of these devils in my head
Until that time I’ll be the man in red