There is something in my truck that eats my socks and pens.
I don’t know what it is, but its appetite never ends.
It waits for me to turn my head
Or when I leave my truck
Then it slithers from its lair and starts to run amuck
It eats my socks and various pens
It eats my receipts and a sunglasses lens
It only eats the things I need
The things I must rely
The things that are not on sale
And are expensive to re-buy.
The socks seem to be its favorite dish
Even with their funky smell
Where the little bastards hide
There is no way to tell
I thought I saw them once
From the corner of my eye
But the little Sum Bitches are quick
And always on the sly
I think they open my windows whilst I am away
And let in blood thirsty mosquitoes and the occasional fly
They turn up my radio and the heat, under the summer sky
I can’t find a single freaking AA battery looking low and high
I will catch one of those bastards, sure as hell
If I follow the smell of dirty socks, I cannot fail.
I’ve started wearing sandals now to thwart their evil lust
But now they’re after my toe-nail clippers
Boy can those pricks adjust!