My head was pounding
Like a bass drum
In a marching band
Boom, boom, boom
A rap upon my door
An angel
Before my eyes
Needing help
Moving a couch
Quick to agree but
This hangover
Was killing me
The couch turned
Into a hide-a-bed
Or roughly around
Another 150 pounds
We tried every way
To get that beast
Up those stairs
I cut myself and bled
All over the floor
Ang broke a nail
The angel couldn’t
Stop laughing
At the both of us
Then it began
We talk of cutting
A hole in the wall
A hole in the floor
Cutting the thing in two
Taking the window out
Taking the door out
In the end
We left it standing
On end
In the kitchen
Where it is today
But we call it
ART
And we won’t
Have to move
The damn thing again
