(instrumental opening)

Standing in my bedroom looking down on my hamper.
The way it is stacked there makes me want to scamper.
Inside the hamper there's a growing pile of clothing.
But what can I do about it? Looks like nothing.
The washer and the dryer, are full, that's how it goes.
I've got a mountain of clothes.

Night after night, I've been standing in the basement
waiting for my wife to make a laundry replacement.
Hoping that she'll come down and the laundry she'll do.
Hoping that the smell of it will give her a clue.
We used to be so happy, but now the pile grows.
I've got a mountain of clothes.

The mountain of clothes.
The mountain of clothes.
It's so much a shame.
I need to wash
this mountain of clothes
or "Mud" will be my name.

Way down below us, there's a half a million people.
Bringing their pitchforks from their church's steeple.
Inside the church, there's an altar filled with flowers.
They need 'em so their own clothes will smell better than ours.
Come on, wash 'em, honey
so we don't offend the nose.
I've got a mountain of clothes.

The mountain of clothes.
The mountain of clothes.
It's so much a shame.
I need to wash
this mountain of clothes
or "Mud" will be my name.

Way down below us, there's a half a million people.
Bringing their pitchforks from their church's steeple.
Inside the church, there's an altar filled with flowers.
They need 'em so their own clothes will smell better than ours.
Come on, wash 'em, honey
so we don't offend the nose.
I've got a mountain of clothes.
I've got a mountain of clothes.
I've got a mountain of clothes.
I've got a mountain of clothes.
(repeat 'til fade)