Bad Egg (vers 2)
Your mother may have raised you right, but life
goes rotten on you, and you end up here,
bagging eggs and canned peas
for old ladies like me. You're smart enough to know
the eggs and the canned-goods aren't bagged together.
That is called 'not putting all of your groceries
in one basket.' Don't mind me, I'm just
hamming it up. But can't you see,
you're egging me on?
I know you still gad about with your miscreant friends;
that hard-boiled cocksure freckle-faced redhead,
he's your ringleader, and you'll do
whatever he says to stay 'in.'
That's just the typical teenage scramble,
but remember, you'll be sunny-side up someday.
You're busy these days,
studying the girls, brooding over your books...
but look, egghead, lemme lay you straight...
Mrs. Kushner, 'cross the street from me,
hasn't had a good egging
in nearly three weeks.
Here's a twenty. Give her the works.
Old biddies like us could use the excitement.
Just you remember who keeps you supplied.
Sneak up late, and keep
your eyes peeled, or you'll fry for sure,
because old ladies like me have bloodshot eyes
in the back of their heads, like eggshells.
Don't go softboiled;
hit her fast and hard.
Like thieves in the night.