a day in the life
has passed, and now you'll have to be
the man she always wanted
or you'll never be
she's keeping the faith
crossing her fingers and legs
she's setting the plates
hoping for dinner guests
so I say to the angry mob
it's a hard, fucking job.
she's pulling your arm
watching the seeds as they swarm
these traveling myths
oh, do they really exist?
you punch holes in empty jars
traffic stops, you're standing on the car
maybe there are two beds where there
used to be one
Reader's Digest and A Raisin in the Sun
so I say to the angry mob
it's a hard, fucking job.
maybe there are are two hearts
where there used to be one
now just cross words
and some silly puns
so I say to the angry mob
it's a hard, fucking job.