T.V. Dinners.
Everyone’s rushing home to see
Their baby all alone.
Cry, cry, baby, don’t cry,
Your momma’s on the phone.
They pop in a T.V. dinner,
Thinking it’ll all be over so soon.
Problems solve away,
Debts clash together a tune
like a scratchy record,
In their wallets, turning them blue.
The bomb will drop any second now
It’ll blow all over the living
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