No problem too big, no problem too small
That’s what they say
Smile through the tough times
And you’re sure to make hay
You see
I have a friend who can’t help but feel the need to keep up with the latest trend
Whatever it may be
He just tries too hard
Pardon the pun but he’s a son of a gun
A good guy but always and forever giving a girl the eye
He has a wife at home, three children
And even though they do bitch, they do moan
They are his
This is it
He needs to look the part
Every moment of his life down to a fine art
He sees a girl he has to have her
Whether charming to the last or his voice reaches her through a slur of words
Typically handsome but take it from me, you’ll do well to flee
Seven kids from four different women
I know what you’re thinking
Completely absurd, a sin, you can’t even find the words
I’m the only one who knows
He doesn’t pay maintenance ‘cos he plays it by chance
A dance with the law
Keeps them in separate countries
What will it be for the man who wants for himself anything else but to be an also-ran
Plenty of money to wine and dine his latest conquest, a French dolly bird from Cannes
Who hangs on his every word
Beautiful, so God damn beautiful it’s unnatural in fact
Want what he has
No thanks
I’m happy with my lot, picked my spot, stuck with it
This is it
A wife, two kids and a life filled with writing
That pretty much goes about spelling the word glee for me