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There are some boyz
Across the street
The kind I wouldn't
Like to meet
They are as tan
As toasted wheat
Their bedrooms prob'ly
Smell like feet

Their pecs are pumped
Their abs are bunched
Eat a half a cow for lunch
I don't know, I have a hunch
They wave goodbye to Cap'n Crunch!

They play bad music
Have loud voices
Use poor vocabulary choices
They are cute, have pretty faces
But couldn't tie their own shoelaces

So long serene nights
With you, my moon
So long peaceful afternoons
They use their yard as a spittoon
I'm gonna just go inside real soon
And pick up the telephone
Call a number that I own

Soon of noise I will be free

I know their landlord you see!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/30/2015