Dinner with the Parents

They don't talk at the table Like the downhill crowd Spotless cutlery, gleaming china Glasses for each drink My hands aren't steady And he frowns at my wink Yeah, yeah, that's how they eat I tell a joke, and no one laughs She whines about the help And they all sigh And I think to myself This ain't right Tense and tight, yeah, yeah That's how they talk Saying goodbye's a nod, not a hug Hands as cold as his brow And I can't help but breathe A sigh of relief That I haven't let him propose Yeah, yeah, you heard right That's how I roll