Dream House Lyrics

Thinking about my future, start thinking about my dream
house. Gosh, can’t wait. Everybody’s got a dream house.
The house of your dreams. You lay in bed, you dream
about it. All the fascinating items you’ll have one
day, and it can be anything you want, dreamers.
Anything. Maybe instead of hallways, you want canals
that you swim down. Maybe at the bottom of your cereal
bowls you want mirrors so you can say hello to yourself
after you drink the milk. “Hello, me.” Dream it, you
f**king dreamers. It’s your dream house. Maybe you
flush the toilet, the toilet goes, “Thanks for shitting
in me. I enjoyed your shit.” Why not? It’s your house.
I have my dream house, and here it is right here. I’ve
always wanted a mystery house ever since i’ve been
young. I’m gonna have it some day too. If i’m having a
party, i want that giant bookshelf that i can go up to,
and when no one’s looking, i pull the big green book.
All of a sudden, i’m in a lab with bunson burners
going. Elixirs and schematics. I don’t even know what
schematics are, but i want them back there cause i know
schematics belong in labs. I even love that creak. I’m
not even gonna WD-40 the sound out. I want the
ambiance. Little secret hallways that you have to run
around like this. You never make secret hallways normal
height so its convenient. They always have to be almost
uncomfortable like, “why the f**k did i build them like
this?” Where’s my lab? Oh, i’ve always wanted to be
able to look through pictures’ eyes. I can’t wait to
have the pictures with eyes so i can look out through.
“Are they really enjoying my party?” and hope that no
one is standing in front of the picture going, “its a
horse with an equestrian, but it looks like Dane’s
eyes.” “OW!” “I just poked the horse’s eyes and it
sounded like Dane getting poked in the eye.” “AHH!”
“Wouldn’t you say its almost like Dane’s behind there
looking through the horse’s eyes.” “AHH! Why am i still
looking?!” “See? Dane!” In my mystery house, i don’t
want guards, i don’t want 911 or alarms. I want trap
doors that i will own and operate. And here’s the
thing: I don’t have the trap doors. I don’t even have
the house yet, but i’m already excited at the
possiblility of a bandit coming into my home to steal –
i get goosebumps. Look at this!- thinking about a
bandit stealing so i can use my trap god-damn doors. I
think i would be so excited that i would leave a path
of expensive gadgets just strewn about in the street up
into my house just to coax a bandit up inside. I would
hide behind the pictures’ eyes, and wait. With my
schematics. I don’t think i could even wait to be
robbed. I thinki would have to use my trap doors on
family, friends, loved ones. I’d be too exicted. My
girlfriend would be like, “you said you washed theses
dishes a week ago and they’re starting to stink.”
“Actually what i said was –--“ “AHH!” “Yes. Now you’re
in a swamp three miles away. Hahaha.” That’s right. I
gotta have a swamp too. Gotta have a swamp. Either a
swamp, our a marsh full of marshmallows. MARSHmallows.
That would be kind of funny too. Cause you’d be pissed
about the trap door, but if you land in marshmallows,
you’d have to kind of be like, “Oh god. I landed in
marshmallows. How mad can I be?”

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Record Label(s): 2005 WMG Comedy Central Records

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