So someone said to me the other day I've got a lisp

A stranger, you know, they said I've got a subtle lisp
And I should know I sound a little stupid doing spoken word
When all my words with "S" in them are spoken so absurd

And I'm not upset, okay it just sucks

To think you're speaking normally for two decades
And then shucks—
Find out your stuff sounds like a stanza of Severus Snape's toughest parseltongue is pronounced by Daffy Duck

So I will say this:

My subtle lisp is not sinful
I'm not sorry Saturday, I'm not sorry Sunday;
I'm spiritual and when I speak
I celebrate the Sabbath seven days a week

I've got special S sauce smothered on my skull walls like a tossed salad so silkscreen the Sistine ceiling on my soft pallet

I sing along with super scenesters
Reciting Sufjan Stevens songs in skinny jeans
Dance salsa with soccer moms
Sneaking out in skimpy see-through sarongs
I will answer your questions in stout
With my sexy subtly lisping sparkling incisor small