The Ravyn’s Nest

Cuz every single character in every single show
Must be shaped and molded perfectly to help your children grow
Cuz if they’re not ideal role models and beacons for good health
You might just have to be one yourself!

And who has time for that?

So with your pen of judgement, you turn on your TV
Prepared to write down ev-e-ry indecency you see
(There’s) a googly-eyed Muppet with a coat of navy blue
He grabs a plate of something…hey, that don’t look like tofu!
And with a ghastly “ahm nahm nahm” the cookies disappear
And suddenly the reason for your offspring’s size is clear
This glut’nous monster’s brainwashed them and driven them to gorge!
Someone must stop this Toll-House-fueled sloth-inducing scourge!

Because you’re far too busy, you can’t teach your kids to see
That reality is different from what’s broadcast on TV
So you know that they’ll just emulate the things the puppets do
And that might reflect badly on you!
So now you’re
Screaming for the blood of the cookie monster
Evil puppet demon of obesity
Time to change the tune of his fearful ballad
C is for “Lettuce,” that’s good enough for me

Well now you start to think, your kid may be depressed
Even though each day he sees a different therapist
So you go to his classroom, which is looking rather stark
Cuz their funds were voted down last year to build a baseball park
The teacher says he’s failing English, history and math
And suddenly it’s clear what’s led him down his darkening path
You can’t call it “Failing!” That’s such a scathing word!
We’ll just call it “Success that’s temporarily deferred!”

Cuz language can be powerful, to raise and to depress
That’s why we no longer have “Shell Shock” we have “Post-traumatic stress”
And the only way to keep our precious darlings out of jail
Is to make them think that they can never fail!

So now you’re
Screaming for the blood of the underpaid teacher
After all your taxes pay her yearly 12 G
You can’t change the world, so just change what you call it
F is for “Almost,” that’s good enough for me

No one understands just how brutal you have it
You wake up each morning and have to fight traffic
Then spend all day chained to your laptop and beeper
Kiss some client’s ass and then play some minesweeper
Then hightail it over to your yoga lessons
Then lattes, pilates, and therapy sessions
Where you whine and ramble and dab your eyelids
And complain that you never get time with your kids

You’ve bitched your yuppie heart out, and meddled with the best
But your brooding fatass offspring keeps deferring his success
So what the hell’s the problem? It surely can’t be you!
It must be all the violence on his new PlayStation 2!
Look at this atrocity! There’s hoodlums, thugs, and skanks
And chronic-tokin’ gangstas running hookers down with tanks
There’s nudity and blood and guts and chainsaws cutting people
And that’s just in the new updated 3-D Tetris sequel!

And sure there’s labels on the games that say that they’re “mature”
But now honestly, just who the hell reads labels anymore?
Tell me wouldn’t it be easier for parents ‘cross the land
If games that aren’t for kids were all just banned?

Now you’re
Screaming for the blood of the game programmer
Gaming should just be a children’s industry
Pixellated actors should be role models
“M” is for “Censored,” that’s good enough for me

Screaming for a new place to point your finger
Won’t rest ’til the whole world is rated “PG”
Don’t stop to think what those letters really stand for
“M” is for “Censored”
“F” is for “Almost”
“C” is for “Lettuce,” that’s good enough for me!