Belly Busters

Here are some song lyrics that sort of came outta nowhere. They’re not from experience, but instead from an offbeat sense of humor. Jot down your thoughts if you’d like.

“Holding My Own”
If I don’t make it back, please don’t cry for me, baby
Sometimes you can’t win them all
It’ll be a tough fight, a fatal one maybe
I know the men before me did not fall
To have me idly sitting by, so I’ve gotta raise some hell
And leave behind my lover and my head
But I’ll keep that little something else that’s swimming in my system
I guess I haven’t mentioned that yet

There are sixteen ounces of rum and coke
And another twelve ounces of beer
Add that to the six more ounces of Johnny Walker Red
I still ain’t got one ounce of fear
No, I still ain’t got one ounce of fear

He might rip me a new one, he might flatten my face
Or leave not a trace of my ass
‘Cause he’ll have kicked it and shellacked it, left it on the front yard bare
By then it will be blending with grass
If I don’t make it back, you will know I wasn’t able
To show him that I really cared
For my sister, for my cousin, for my loyal, lovely wife
I’ll be black and blue, but still have room to smile

And take down twenty-two more ounces of a pina colada
The count will stop at forty with the beer
I’ll thrown down a brown bag-full of a drink I cannot taste
And I still won’t have one ounce of fear
No, I still won’t have one ounce of fear

“An Ordinary Guy”
Without the convenience of durable shoes
The tips of his toes become covered in goo
And being what I’d call a hygienic fellow
This sticky impediment sets him ablaze

His rage is a spectacle, all gather ‘round
The birds and the worms and the neighbor’s bloodhound
They witness what no man can ever dare see
Bigfoot would move but he can’t leave this place

He’s stuck in a mortgage
His kids go to school in a neighboring forest
His wife just adores the leisurely walks
But he can’t afford a pair of nice socks

It’s not just commuting through swamps and wetlands
That grinds his old gears or bugs him so bad
But also the fact that he can’t find some pants
With a seventy-two inch elastic waistband

So he and the fam are for now staying put
And aside from the steady arrival of crooks
On the lam to find only that Bigfoot does cook
Every Tom, Bill, and Harry that’s small, fat, or looks
Like an amateur from National Enquirer

They’ll remain by themselves, hibernate when it snows
And accept all donations of sneakers and clothes
Bigfoot is real but he can’t find a job
He’s really a regular old, fat, hairy slob

“Wild, Strong, and Free”
From the tips of my toes to the bridge of my nose
I’m in love with someone I barely know
But above all that I’m sure my intentions are impure
So I’m setting an appointment with my surgeon

There the nurse will pulse my wrist work the kinks out of my hips
Conk my knees and send me running down the hall
To dip my head in anesthetic where I’ll realize how pathetic
Getting ready for lobotomy can be

I’ll be stupid in a minute
My wife won’t want to live with me
All that matters is my mistress
After this, I’ll be wild, strong, and free

There are shackles on my ankles in a figurative sense
I’m too afraid of the consequences
Though I’ll forget all that in time I know to my last dime
That Alyssa will steal back all my money

Perhaps that day could be tomorrow but I’ll escape all the sorrow
With my right thumb plumb anchored in my mouth
As I run through my last thoughts the scalpel turns to miter saw
Say hello to the stress-free life ahead

I am stupid I don’t know it
I let my torso talk for me
That was a full song so give me credit
I tried to rhyme when my lobes don’t have a bridge
What a crime, you got a song without a bridge

Published in: on September 25, 2008 at 4:41 am  Leave a Comment  

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