Domestic Life Lyrics & Tabs by King Missile
Domestic Life
guitar chords lyrics
She pressed the knife lightly against his left testicle and said, "Now do I have your attention?"
He yawned and said, "Yes, yes, what is it now?"
She said, "I'm gonna cut off your fucking balls."
He said, "Yes, I gathered that, but what's the subtext here? You don't really wanna cut off my balls, you want me to do something. Why don't you tell me what you want me to do?"
She said, "I want you to know what I want you to do."
As she said this, he slipped away and quickly opened the lower drawer of the endtable and pulled out the revolver. He cocked and aimed it and said, "Is this it? Is this what you want me to do? You want me to shoot you in your fuckin' ass? Turn around. I'm gonna shoot you in your fuckin' ass."
"That gun's not loaded, fuckface," she said. "I took the bullets out of it last night."
"Oh yeah?" he said. "I reloaded it this morning."
And to prove his point, he shot the television.
"You stupid fuck!" she said. "The season premiere of ER is on in five minutes. George Clooney. George Clooney. Must-see TV."
"Oh honey," he said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, come on. We'll watch it in the living room."
"Forget it," she said. "I'm not in the mood. Maybe tomorrow."
Maybe tomorrow indeed. For aren't we all prisoners of time? Isn't everything we do done with one eye on the clock?
"Shut up," she said, "who asked you anyway? Honey, let's sell this house, it's too big. Let's sell this house, buy a trailer, put the leftover money in mutual funds, and live off the dividends for the rest of our lives."
"Sugarpie," he said, "that really ticks me off. One minute you wanna cut my balls off, then when I'm all ready you up and wanna do something different. Live in a trailer, maybe I should shoot you in the ass, you're not in the mood. You're not in the mood. Well, maybe I'm in the mood. Maybe I'm really in the mood. Maybe I'll just mosey on down to Lucy's trailer and shoot her in the ass. Have her cut off a testicle or two. How does that tickle you?"
Maybe tomorrow indeed. For aren't we all prisoners of time? Isn't everything we do done with one eye on the clock?
"Shut up," she said, "who asked you anyway? Honey, let's sell this house, it's too big. Let's sell this house, buy a trailer, put the leftover money in mutual funds, and live off the dividends for the rest of our lives."
"Sugarpie," he said, "that really ticks me off. One minute you wanna cut my balls off, then when I'm all ready you up and wanna do something different. Live in a trailer, maybe I should shoot you in the ass, you're not in the mood. You're not in the mood. Well, maybe I'm in the mood. Maybe I'm really in the mood. Maybe I'll just mosey on down to Lucy's trailer and shoot her in the ass. Have her cut off a testicle or two. How does that tickle you?"
She sat silently for almost thirty seconds and then said, "We don't live in a trailer park, stupid. You can't 'mosey on down to Lucy's trailer,' because the nearest trailer park is two hours on the interstate."
She was right, of course. The nearest trailer park was over a hundred miles away on I-90.
"I just said that!" she said. "Just shut the fuck up and let me think for a minute."
"Who are you talking to?" he asked.
"Shut up," she said, "you're driving me fucking nuts."
"Honey," he said, "let's go downstairs and watch George Clooney..."
"If you don't shut up," she said, "I will shoot the living room television just as surely as I shot the bedroom television."
"But honey!" he said. "It's the season premiere! Must-see TV! Must-see. Must-see. Besides, I shot the television."
"That's it," she said, "kiss those balls goodbye."
She deftly hacked off his balls with a few quick strokes and stuffed them into his mouth.
"Hmmmph!" he said. "Hmmmmmmmph!" he said.
She said, "He said, 'Shut up and let me eat my balls in peace.' And will you stop saying 'he said' and 'she said' in the middle of everything we say, or I'll cut your fucking balls off next."
To which I replied, "Okay. Fuck you. Fuck you both. Take that knife and shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shits, I created you. I formed you out of nothing, like a god, I invented both of you, and all you do is fight. I sat down and took the time to write a nice little story about you two when I could've been watching ER. Go fuck yourselves! Both of you! Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck - you give and you give, and what's the point, what's the fucking point? I missed the season premiere, and - now I'll never know what happened with the thing, and the, and the - thing. And - it's all so useless and hopeless - this is a very bad day."
"Hey look," he said, "I'm sorry. You're right."
"I'm sorry too," she said. "We're both being very selfish. We didn't realize you were in such pain. Let it out. Don't hold it back. Let it out. Tell us all about it."
"Yes," he said, "you can tell us. You can trust us. You can count on us. You can fuck us and kill us."
"You really mean it?" I said. "I can tell you everything?"
"Of course!" they replied in unison, and stood there smiling their smarmy fucking smiles. So I killed them and fucked them and hacked them to bits, and then I told them everything.
