Bad Science Fiction
© Greg Keeler 1987

Modern Problems Dancing

For a touch of true romance,
Let's do some modern problems dancin'.
Two by two go to the drive in show.
And if your gal don't take exception,
Don't use any contraception.
Tell her that you'll die you love her so.
You knock her up, make her your bride,
And then you buy her a double-wide.
Get a job in an oil boom.
Add on a couple extra rooms.
Your flyin' just as high as you can fly.
Partner right, right and left grand,
Make all kinds of crazy plans.
You're on your way the limit is the sky.

Now watch that oil boom go bust
And all your dreams turn into dust.
Spend all you got left out drinkin' booze.
Cheat on your wife and get a sweetie
With a rump that's nice and meaty.
Hell, you don't care if you win or lose.
You lose your job. You lose your house.
You lose your car, abuse your spouse.
Meet your sweetie and promenade.
Use a rubber 'cause you might get AIDS.
Hand over hand between the beds you go.
Meet your wife with a left alamande.
Slap your kid with the back of your hand.
Get divorced and then you docedo.

Though you've always just said no,
Your sweetie says she's dealin' dope,
So pretty soon you're snortin' God knows what.
It makes you strong. It makes you laugh.
It cuts your synapses in half.
Instead of sayin' no, you ask how much.
You promenade, and then you swing,
And then you form a cocaine ring.
Set up a deal down in Miami.
Get caught in the double whammy
When your sweetie runs off with the dough.
She's decided you're a drag,
So she leaves you holding the bag.
You go to jail for twenty years or so.

As you see, you take a chance
When you do modern problems dancin'
So be careful how you dosedo.
Don't swing when you should promenade,
Don't alaman left and don't sache.
I've done that dance, so Darlin' I should know.