we could move back to The Cul-de-Sac
when we're ready to visit
the simpler times,
and you could be Kevin,
revving up your motorcycle
in our driveway every Friday night,

and we'd enjoy the boiling stars
on our walk down The Lane,
and you'd tell me that it took
a few years to appreciate it,
but you love how the aroma
of my Krankshaft No. 5
has grown on you,
"'... fresh cut spring flowers
strewn across a babbling brook
with a hint of lemon.' isn't that
what that one dork said
it smelled like, back in 1999?

Funny how time flies, man,
how about when we get home,
we watch some cartoons,
and you can scratch my head,
and we can watch our tongues
change color from the jawbreakers
that I've been saving for us tonight?"

Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?