Noon, whining douses the calm,
Grass needs mowing on the land,
Somebody simmering with no more aplomb,
Rusty mower in his trembling hands.

Somebody trying to get done by five,
He got premises to sweep,
Mowing the rows that he will need to cut,
Far from play with hills so steep,

Violence mars drinking in the bleakness of a windless sky,
Cold Silver Bullet beers, mostly bare and thin grass has died,
Dandelions are growing, new swirls being born,
Clovers and crabgrasses creeping as they spawn,
And it's a lawn mowed, I am weedin'

Mutant grasses form around a tree.
In a frightful, funny way,
Flow on ground, in thinner state,
In its good ol' DNA.

Have a bunch of that potassium stuff,
Spreadin' fine nitrate while swatting flies,
I said, "Gimme a slice of that Weed B' Gone grass kit,
Gimme 'nother seed perennial rye".

Green sprays sickening, smells are priming for June,
I'm guided by myopia, old sap says we'll be a-thriving soon,
Cultivate the rolled border, spring is for the rains,
Maturing as the flakes I tried are for my growing gains,
And it's a lawn mowed, I am feedin'.

Root zone, I was so certain,
The lawn was very near,
But now I have to wonder: "What am I doing here?"
I'm am drowning in my sorrow,
And I can't tell strong from blight,
But I'd give anything to see care in my grass tonight

Guitar solo

Weaving down my old spic n' span driveway,
When a critter on the deck made like a burrowing skunk,
Bloated, quick and now hell bent, mole fled from my veranda,
And now conniving, crazed with spunk.

Went down a hole to the grasses,
A hole, like Groundhog Day,
Get the pest, no pleaser, in its tunneling way,
I said, "It's hard to stop infringing, oh my lawn's a waste
But burrowed underground is a foe that I can't face.

Behold the traps and grapple - the scour of the tools,
But all the smoke bombs in the world are of no use to fools,
And on a lawn mowed, moles are breedin'.