Another night of too much cough syrup
I'm awakened by the incessant ringing of a telephone
I still have dreams caked in the corners of my eyes
And my mouth is dry and tastes shitty
Again, the ringing
Slowly I bustle out of bed
The remnants of an erection still lingering in my shorts
Like a bothersome guest
Again, the ringing
Carefully, I abscond to the bathroom
As to not display my manhood to others
There, I make the perfunctory morning faces
Which always seems to preceed my daily contribution
To the once blue toilet water
That I always enjoy making green
Again, the ringing
I shake twice like most others
And I'm annoyed by the dribble that always seems to remain
Causing a small acreage of wetness on the front of my briefs
I slowly, languidly, lazily, crazily
Stumble into the den
Where my father smokes his guitars
I mean, cigars
In his easy chair
I know all about easy chairs
And then I sing a song for my friends
"Jesus is my boyfriend!"
"Jesus is my boyfriend!"
"You can't have him!"
"Because Jesus is my boyfriend!"
Ringing, ringing, dang it
Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitchin' ringing
I walk into the kitchen and I stare blanky at that shrieking plastic

bastard
Since it keeps ringing, I know it's her
And since it keeps ringing, she knows it's me
"We are the world, we are the children"
"We are the ones who make a darker day"
"So let's start killing"
"There's a choice you're making"
"We're sparing our own lives"
"It's true we make a darker day"
"Just you and me"