Mom’s Basement…We’re Going Down

I am just too emotional now
I’ve been crying all morning
Make-up running down my face
And I’m just such a sissy-boy
Sit on the couch…upset and nauseated
I want to call for my Mommy
But she’s heard my whining too long
(please come rub my tummy…and then sing me a happy song)

“Modest Chair”
“Giant’s Mouse”
We're always naming bands…and gaming
In my Mom’s house

I’m going down, down…hiding under the ground
Mom’s Basement…that’s where I am living
My Dad says “take my finger and pull it”
A gun I should rent…then purchase a bullet

Friends coming down, down…for songwriting we’ve found
Mom’s basement,…the place for emoting
We’ll use each other’s shoulders for weeping
A pile of depression…heaping and steeping

Is this song that we’re writing done yet ?
I just thought of a band name
“Suburban Pigliacci”
Why does my angst addiction bother you ?
Let’s stop this clowning…now it’s time for my confession
I got caught piercing my pimple
My Mom said that I could go blind
(It just seemed so simple…but now I think I’m in a bind)

Stab my eye
With a stick
I’m always acting out…reacting
With the same schtick

We're singin’ bye,bye…we’re emotional guys
Mom’s basement…we’ll never be leaving
We’ll have a fun time when we play Twister
And crank up the jukebox…with Mister Mister

Dad’s asking why, why…can’t you just say good-bye
Mom’s Basement…should have other uses
I think it’s time that you all departed
Remember that couch is where you got started

No, no we’re not planning to go
Mom’s basement…is our little haven
It’s where we keep our funky black glasses
And skin-tight jeans that will ride up our asses

We're really cool, cool…though we’re hated at school
Mom’s basement…is where we’ll be hiding
We’ll wear some beads we got from Bette “Mitler”
And take our black bangs and… style ‘em like Hitler

We're gonna cry,cry
Sigh, sigh
We're wanna die, die
Although we are “chicken”…just like a pullet

We are so new, new…and I feel kinda blue
Mom’s basement…our “cutting edge” project
I think a song named “Crying” will say it
Just then my old Dad says…”here’s Roy…now play it !”

IB