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Darla, they've brought your eggs into my kitchen |
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I know you're wishin' your bones weren't so soft |
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But your cage is just too small to move in, |
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We're fucking groovin' in the city |
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It's a pity that you can't be groovin' too, boo. |
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And i know that you weren't born for a pot pie, |
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That you weren't born for the cage in life |
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And i know that your ovulation's private |
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And you're ready to be fertilized. |
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Darla, you never said you were unhappy |
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Or you feel crappy |
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Never said anything at all |
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But i know you know you're not living the good life |
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If i could i'd pick lock you free, |
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You'd live with jeff and me on fairmount st. |
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That'd be neat. |
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And i know that you weren't born for a pot pie, |
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That you were born for the cage in life |
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And i know that your ovulation's private |
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And you're ready to be fertilized. |
