Catch up with the times
Ketchup can't be confined
Like a fine wine in the door
Of the cooler
You aint my ruler
Its back to school for fools who store
The eggs out of sight
In a three dog night
That aint right or what a fridge is for
Yellow butter on a dish
Or the black and Irish
Delicious warm enough to pour
I know I gotta say Im wrong
If I dont wanna be alone
Now Im so angry I wrote a song
I know it just dont matter where the jam belongs
But somehow we're argued about it all day long
Bananas in the sun
Thats where they come from
I keep one down in my underwear
And some high upon a shelf
Go on help yourself
Oh but they dont go in no Frigidaire
When I first me you it was love at first sight
I dint think to ask if you keep your butter on ice
They dont teach you pantry politics when you say your vows
Is this really what real loves all about?
And Im getting all philosophical
Because its distinctly possible
That Im blowing this out of proportion
Let me proceed with extra caution
I know love is illogical and you will always be my girl
But maybe possibly potentially perhaps
Youre an idiot
I know youve got your ways
It may only keep for days
But Im still ready for the jelly with a shorter lifespan
There aint no right or wrong
But its my goddamn song
Just gimmie some ambient temperature jam