My time, for kicking back
The day that I've had was outta whack
My problems, so stupid and lame
Fade in the noise of a Super Bowl game

Then you come, then you come
Screamin' at me
Ruining the haze of my reverie
Your new jeans, have got a tear
You don't have anything else to wear
Take off your pants, sit over there

Sewing the seats on pants, seats on pants
Sewing the seats
Sewing the seats on pants, seats on pants
Sewing the seats

I see, you looking at me
Imploringly, for some kind of free repair job
I told you so
You wear 'em that tight, they're gonna blow

Always bending over like you haven't a care
Now everyone can see your underwear
The skid marks, and little hearts
Stained by the flame of industrial farts
Hope I get done 'fore halftime starts

Sewing the seats on pants, seats on pants
Sewing the seats
Sewing the seats on pants, seats on pants
Sewing the seats
Forget the pleats
And doing it neat, I'm not

Check your drawers, look inside 'em
If there are pants in there, then get inside 'em
I don't care, if they're not designer
Put 'em on, don't be a whiner

Anything, get into it
Anything, just freakin' do it
Anything, shorts or jammies
Anything, borrow Grammy's
Anything, think about it, think about it
Take another look in the crannies and the nooks
There are pants to wear

Sewing the seats on pants, sewing the seats, etc.
Mr. Mom is sewing the seats on pants

Time to wear your old jeans, swallow your style, slum it awhile
Time to wear your old jeans, swallow your style, slum it awhile
No time for kicking back
It fell in the face of a kid attack
My needle, must admit defeat
My favorite football team got beat
And these damn pants, have no seat, no seat, no seat

Sewing the seats on pants, seats on pants, etc.