I don't want radiation
So I opted out (opt out!)
But when they grabbed my man junk
I couldn't help myself I had to shout,
I had to shout, I had to get my message out, I said

Don't touch my junk
Don't touch my junk
I'll have you arrested
If you touch my junk
Don't touch my junk
This ain't your lovely lady lump
I don't want to be molested
So don't touch my junk

So I went back
Wearing a Scottish kilt
I popped three Viagra
To make sure my stuff would not wilt

When it came my turn
For that nasty pat down
They thought I had a weapon
So they made me pull it out

Don't touch my junk
Don't touch my junk
I'll have you arrested
If you touch my junk
Don't touch my junk
Let go of my hump my hump my hump
I don't want to be molested
So don't touch my junk

Now who put these morons with a badge in charge, and gave them the right to molest us in the name of security?

Don't touch my junk (can't touch this)
Don't touch my junk (can't touch this)
They X-rayed my bags and then
They patted down my elephant trunk

They went up my shorts
They went down my pants
This ain't romance
No it's the TSA hustle
They felt me up
While they put me down
They squeezed my butt
In that TSA hustle

This is happening in the land of the free? Alex Jones was right! I'm gonna smuggle a copy of the Bill of Rights next to my body, so when they reach down there they get a hand full of Fourth Amendment.

Lordy Lordy I declare
Big Brother's in my underwear
Fly to London, fly to France
Big Sis checkin' out my underpants

They went up my shorts (can't touch this)
They went down my pants (can't touch this)
This ain't romance
No it's the TSA hustle
They felt me up
Like they were my personal physician
Put your hands in the air
In the surrender position

This ain't security
And this ain't sex
It's some other kind of tyranny
And now you're next

It's time to stop these
Big Brother Nazi thugs
Next time you fly just tell 'em
Don't touch my junk

The Bill of Rights, baby.