R.V.

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'