Revenge Of The Mullet

Something about his name,
Demands the definite article.
Eighties flair and light brown hair,
Cascading from his skull.
The day that he moved nextdoor,
I knew I had to pack up and go.
His daddy may have been after me,
But how was I to know?

When he burst into my room,
The bathroom floor was a plane-wreck.
It really wasn't my fault,
But he didn't fact-check.
He chased me out of my place,
Wielding his replica broadsword.
The shower curtain was fake.
It was made of cardboard.

Sunday, take a walk in the park;
Monday, sit alone in the dark.
If he sees me,
I know he will eat me.

And now I'm never alone,
No no, I never pick up my phone calls,
I know wherever I go,
The Mullet will have his revenge on Aswego.

Somethings about his way,
Suggests a man who won't be outfoxed,
Smile wide and Swagger snyde,
American dreadlocks.
God couldn't clear my name,
And if he could then he wouldn't hear it
Not one question, never rest,
Enthusiastic fear.

In battle he disapears,
And re-appears like a ninja,
His flowing back-level beard,
Blowing in the winda-a!
He isn't racist at all,
He wants it seperate but equal,
Thinks people just get along,
Within their own people.

You may, lose your way in the park,
You may, bump your head in the dark.
You make sense but,
I'm lost in a haircut.

And now I'm never alone,
I never pick up my phone calls,
I know wherever I go,
The Mullet will have his revenge on Aswego.