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 change!