And now I've got something to say about a place that's far away, and I wish I was there today. Where shaven heads are just a game for a girl who lives there: her domain, and you know Maury is her name. With combat boots that need a shine, a breeze is blowing all the time that billows through her full-length skirt, and her Bauhaus and her Misfits shirt, and if I say she's looking great, she'll kick me in the stomach and happily walk away. In Mauryland, Mauryland, a paradise in the eastern Texas sand, you know its Mauryland. Where everyone is thin and tall, there's punk rock posters on the wall, and Taco Bell for city hall, and though she's coming back in fall, I'll miss her, I won't mind at all, spending hundreds in long distance calls. 'Cos Mauryland's the place to be, 'cos all the Dr. Pepper is free, neet Tom Lasorda by the creek with country folk and city freaks, and if I say her outfit is neat, she'll wait to punch me in the head while I'm driving down the street. In Mauryland, Mauryland, your days are fun-filled but nothing's ever planned. Hey Maury, Maury, what's the story? When you sleep, we hear you snoring, waking up the neighbors miles away. Maury, Maury, we adore thee, there's nothing we won't do for thee, ëcos you can be our only friend some days. I asked someone in Mauryland if their name was Fred, they said "No, it's Maury, we're all named Maury, That's the way it is, don't question why, it's just like that!!" In Mauryland, Mauryland, I'll always have a friend in Mauryland, because I've got a friend in Mauryland. I've got a friend in Mauryland. I've got a friend in Mauryland. I've got a friend in Mauryland.