Never go to work, everything messy

Ashes everywhere, giant cans of Pepsi

Constant updates, the van needs brakes

Everything is great, stolen license plates

Dandruff everywhere, kids got colds

Dishes in the sink, place smells like molds

Live inside cable, fantasize about moves

Enter your 30’s, still wearing Jerseys

Need to do burpees, take more showers

Get yourself together, assume a spirit power

Maybe it's a raven, maybe need Pristiq

Same conversation, the same long weeks

I want a simple life, where we milk cows and cobras

Coral snakes, soufflés of the lightest cakes

Moonlighting, stationed exercise biking

The same qualities found in the common Viking

Floyd, similar to the singer Lloyd

The fang of the cobra and the morning avoid

They’re just kin called Roys and The Donovan Boys

All six of them, exotic like British men

I’m like, fellas, you could have won a Tony

We could have been brothers like Josiah and Yoni

There’s so much room, beautiful purple flowers bloom

Check me out, man, I’ll be over soon

The detective skills of Dolph Lundgren, L.A.’s never been more safe

The great escape is tougher, like having a family complicates

Look on the bright side

There’s many things to be happy for

Like living in Los Angeles with a unlocked door

That's what you pay Dolph for

Beaver coats, pretty walls, snow atop a house for birds

A total loss for use of words, to shave your lamb, that shit was cold

The weight of snow on naked trees, the weight of giving up a dream

Settle down into the soil, sprout another dream tutorial

Grubby criminals versus the fire department, I followed them to the apartment, sergeant

Axes out, we're positioned on sixth floor, hoses up the staircase, aimed at their front door

We got ‘em

Those bastards won’t know what hit ‘em

Chalk one up for the good guys

We got ‘em, captain

Hey, marry into royalty, become a duke

Make your buddies puke, ‘cause you've joined a new social loop

Involving velvet, couplets, and little bells

Go to hell, suckers, enjoy livin' at your brothers'

And your covers smell like rubber

Sleeping bags, and cover's old

Walkin' to your car cold

I’m children's choirs and gray tea old