Song parody of

Becoming the Lastnames

by Will Wood

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

Don't take the following words as reverence for tradition I've learned to pick my battles by losing most I've fought The more mores subverted, the more I sense I'm missing And I'll always do it my way, even if that's just the same way I was taught I'll bring home the bread and you'll stay home and bake it, mmhmm-mm Weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss Crack a smile at my vows and whisper, "Wow, can you believe we really made it?" As I give up on dodging rice and fold my cape, I say, "Obviously not" But I want to be just like my parents before I was born Oh, can we be just like my parents? Mmhmm I know you don't want kids, but think about a daughter We could name her Gwendolyn, like mom would have called me I'm not sure yet myself, but I learned from a good father Yeah, I mean, sure, they messed me up, but I think that's just the gig And maybe it's just some hormones that kick in in your late twenties But I have laid a lot of women and now I'd like to just lay down And marriage always scared me, but I'd like to have a last love And love can last a pretty good long while, yeah, I've seen it around Oh, can we be just like my parents when I was young? Why can't we be just like my parents? Mmhmm So tongue out of my cheek now, I'm done pulling faces Iconoclasm wanes, my cynicism tires But what do I know 'bout forever when so far I've been so fleeting? Babe, my frontal lobe's done growing, this might just be how I'm wired But now we're kissing before brushing, smile with our whole faces If you want a hyphen last name, I guess I don't mind the cadence I've seen home videos, I was there back in the 80's And if I'm just them and they back then could do it, why can't I? Just like my parents in due time Imagine me, just like my parents, yeah, right 'Cause I've made more mistakes than simple empty moments Whoa-oh, each one as out of character as you know I tend to be There'll be scalpers at the cemetery gates, with all my would be widows weeping Oh, I'd have forgotten all their names, so why should you remember me? If we grow old together, will you talk to my headstone? That is, assuming that I die first (which is fair) and assuming I don't leave Close enough to forever, I guess, to prove what I hope I mean, otherwise, how am I to believe? Oh, ooh

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