ive got fuckin explicatives in my fuckin head

ive got fuckin explicatives in my fuckin head
ive got the fuckin urge to fuckin run into fuckin bed
ive got a fuckin belly that grows with every fuckin day
and ive a woman who wants to have me her fuckin way
ive got a trip that im supposed to be taking
and ive got songs that im supposed to be making
ive got a family that im supposed to be faking
and anita would love to be in the kitchen baking
ive been watchin this kitchen television show
and you see they make all sorts of cakes to go
it seems like a pretty cool place to work
anita seems to think so and im not being a jerk
im fuckin tired of this little rectangular basement
with cd's on the floor in peculiar arrangement
the bed dragged to the right near the window
the sun shining through with a yellow orange glow
the books on the walls were arranged long ago
the television moved downstairs with care
the picture a gift from my sister the bitch
she whines and asks for money and shit
she takes and doesn't return the favor
which does tend to drop her out of good favor
and then there's my father, why do i bother
the guy tries to keep me from going any further
and of course my mother, the sad mopey preston
she sits around and drowns in depression
so this is my family the dysfunctional three
they all seem to fuckin be entirely needy
one calls for cash
one calls for care
one calls for control
im amazed they dare
but im done with nonsense, i won't be here long
i've already begun to sing my own song
with anita here, my future seems clear
we'll soon be over there
the place where people care
where the sun rises on the oceans current
and the buildings are built by the original americans
free from the pressures of the air force base
free from conservatism's abysmal state
we'll be far from columbus and shit
i don't think that we'll care one bit
to be far away from a place we hate