I am down to my last pair of underwear
and it seems to me that it's long past time to do laundry.
I swear, I never do anything until I absolutely have to,
until everything is "past due."
These deadlines seem to dominate my day
I am subjected to their power; I am their prey
They are looming, lurking, laughing in my face
As I squirm in these ripped-up, granny "gotchies" in disgrace

The last pair of underwear is always the worst
They never quite fit your full fanny
I am the first to admit that I don't like the way it feels
when things don't fit!
So why do I let things get this bad?
It seems to me that I have had my share of: Underwear Crises.

When I let things get this bad I am forced to reassess
I am drowning in my sorrows, my passions, my mess
Childish? I guess, but fruitful nonetheless.

Because I am standing at the washing machine
I am poised, I am ready to clean these undergarments.
They are sprinkled with a fresh clean smelling detergent
I am poised, I am ready for change
I am poised, I am really needing this change
I am poised, I really which I had more change

Because I am down to my last quarter
And the machine takes four more
Guess it's time to resign? Or redefine!!
WHO NEEDS UNDERWEAR ANYWAY??

The last pair of underwear is always the worst
They never quite fit your full fanny
I am the first to admit that I don't like the way it feels
when things don't fit!
So why do I let things get this bad?
It seems to me that I have had my share of: Underwear Crises.

I'm going to lift my head up from despair
Look at me chang