When we got married, it was like soul mates,
But a couple years later, all we had was soul hate.
So for once we agreed on the logical course.
It was clearly time for us to get a divorce.

It started in the bathroom, with the seat upright.
She could have let it go, but she wanted to fight.
Made some crazy accusations, insinuations half true.
And by sheer coincidence, the other half was too.

From that point on, it just kept getting worse.
She would say this or that, and I just wanted to curse!
I tried to make it work, tried to keep my cool.
But she was inconsistent with the golden rule.

I was watching channel 2. She demanded a switch.
Said 3 is much better. Daaaamn, what a bitch!
Simple market research shows 2 is the best.
Shouldn’t that data make her give it a rest?

She bought me some clothes, straight up from the mall.
What the hell she think I am? A fuckin’ Ken Doll?
I choose my own clothes, just because I can.
Making grown-up decisions, all day, like a man!

So I went to a bar, picked out my own drink.
Had to get away from home, just to hear myself think.
And I found a solution. It became crystal clear.
It involved a drunken orgy and some quality beer.

But even that was useless. Can you believe that?
Got an earful at home. Had to dodge a baseball bat.
I did it ‘cause I loved her. Anyone would understand.
But all I got from her, self-righteous reprimand.

So now it’s all over. The dream has just died.
It might have worked out if only I had lied.
And I think that’s the lesson to take away from this.
Gotta be a better liar if you want wedded bliss.