Backside melts into the sofa
My world, my TV and my food
Besides listening to my belly gurgle
There ain't much else to do
Yeah, I sweat a lot
Hmm, no, eh, shit, oh
Pants fall down every time I bend over
My feet itch
Yeah, I married a scarecrow

I hate you
Talkin' to myself
Everybody's staring at me
I'm only bleedin'

Someone taps me on the shoulder every five minutes
Nobody speaks English anymore
Would anybody tell me if I was getting stupider?

I hate you
Talkin' to myself
You don't feel it after a while
You take the beating

I'm a swingin' guy
Throw a belt over the shower curtain rod
And swing
Toss me inside a hefty
And put me in the ground

A drink needs me
I don't
I ain't about to guzzle no tears
So kiss my ass
Newscasters and cockroaches and desserts

I hate you
Talking to myself
Everybody's staring at me
I'm only bleeding

Where are the kids? I don't know
Maybe getting pregnant or on drugs or on welfare
On top of the world
Honor roll, parole, or reruns
Dodgers on the backs of milk cartons
On stakes in the middle of cornfields
On covers of future history books, old lady's mantles
Walkin' on water, nailed on crosses

I think it's time I had a talk with my kids
I'll just tell 'em what my daddy told me
You ain't never gonna amount to nothin'

Copyright: BIG THRILLING MUSIC
Writer(s): Bill Gould, James Blanco Martin, Michael Allen Patton, Michael Andrew Bordin, Roddy Christopher Bottum