House Warming

What is it, baby, you want from me?
To watch a little less golf and late night TV?
Well, there’s a few things that I’d like from thee.
But, after all, girl, it’s reality.
There’s making believe and there’s leaving things be.
You say «pitch in with the laundry and don’t mess the bed,
And every now and again see the children are fed.»
Hey, well why don’t you go to work instead
And I’ll stay home and fill up my head
With myriad ways to stay in the red.
You are, all the time, weighing on my mind.
You’re always on my mind.
So you think that I’m nasty? I think you’re a nag.
And probably pretty damn soon you’ll become an old bag
And I won’t get hard and your tits will sag.
Our nights are anemic. Our days are a drag.
The longer we live, girl, the further our love lags.