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lyrics
The last time I was in this ditch
I must not've thought I was done with it
Here beside the broken matress
Two bottles of red, two books of matches
The children tap upon the window
Parents ask them not to do so
The children ask "Mommy, is this it?"
Their daddies call me a son of a bitch
The wild thing's come home to roost
To multiply, then to turn it loose
This hole is bigger than you expect
I got a little blue car I drive around it
And still I ain't seen every bit
Though it's pretty hard to keep track of it
A shirtless boy, a heavy mallet
The chicken head, mama, tell me about it
What do you call a hippie's wife?
Mississippi
Where do hipster houseflies socialise?
The Big Shitty
It's plain as plain, I'm doing fine
It's a genuine, certified barrel of monkeys down here
Three times ago, I was in and out
Two times ago, I sorta hung about
The last time took a month and a half
Now I try to keep my mind off that
There's always something up in the attic
Whether or not you go look at it
Yes, the wild things've come home to roost
To multiply, then to turn it loose