fuckin' doin' it.
this song is called eviction notice, it's a two-parter.
it's about how drugs are the gateway to fun and flat laugh lines.

there's effort in her smile and it shouldn't be that way,
her last days of being snuffed out in an ashtray that's pricely.
trying to intercept the passing away, i've asked nicely,
but i've learned not to feed the hand that bites me.
this morning, the cradle rocks the hand,
as i bang on pots and pans, she's just
playing in her warning label box again.
she wants a man i can look up to, a role model to come through,
don't bother unpacking your car.
cyanogen filled thrill sticks, this girl will spit fire,
got me doing pirouettes over her guilt trip wire.
i still skip by a landmine or two, see i've learned the landscape,
all the while practicing my firm handshake,
hair trigger-finger itch to spark any conversation,
set explosive personalities, don't want deadly confrontation.
what happens in between her lips, she needs to fix more than she knows,
her friend's a bitch and needs to go.
there's a note on the door (a note on the door, a note on the door).
eviction notice.

listen, one of us is leaving, and when i say 'us,' i mean you!
you're leaving! you're leaving. you're leaving.

i'm in the house ya'll! i'm in the house ya'll!
and ain't no little piece of paper gonna kick me out ya'll! what?!
i'm in the house! i'm in the house!
and ain't no legal seperation gonna kick my ass out.

i'm in the house ya'll! i'm in the house ya'll!
and ain't no new boyfriend gonna kick me out ya'll! fuck that!
i'm in the house! what? i'm in the house!
ain't no snot-nosed brat gonna kick my ass out.

pick me! please leave me be, leave me. please leave me. believe me, please!
please leave me be, leave me. please leave me. please believe me. leave me be.

this song is called eviction notice, it's a two-parter.
basically, it's about how sacrifice and vices
will invite themselves to an overstayed welcome
at your haunted house parties. fun times.

there's effort in her smile and it shouldn't be like that,
her final evenings have her drowning in a nightcap,
and that's costly. trying to keep her on the right track,
i ask softly, but she just says, "back off me!"
and i've learned to space her private respect.
she breeds some room to need and every afternoon proceeds
to mix her liquid sitter while preparing baby food to feed.
she wants a man i can look up to, a mentor, fuck you!
get your things packed.
yes kids, the poison is the message in the bottle.
before the dawn, she'll have to kill
all fetal positions by ingesting a morning-after pill.
crawling fast until i get rewarded for how good i behave,
while practicing my good-bye wave. should i stay
after planning my escape routes and shouting out,
"is there a lifeguard in the lighthouse?"
to the rescue bottle, mouth to mouth, between her lips she sips.
she needs a fix more than she knows, her friend's a bitch
and there's a note on the door.
eviction notice.

fun times, fun times. fun times, fun times, fun times...