A spider of bungee cords holds down your life
on the roof of your AMC rambler
heading out west to less oil pastures
like the fields that you see on the postcards
that say wish you were here, but since you are there you just take these folks at their word
when you move there, there's nobody there
except a Walmart and three yogurt places
Chorus:
No pain, no problem
I don't need a kick in the rear
No pain over yonder
That means there's no problem here
A network of welcomers
all want your business
because your new phone number's listed
but they wait to call
until you have supper
and they even know you by your first name
they say glad that you're here now give us your visa
you just take these folks at their word
so you unload your problems while eating your yogurt
until you hear a dialtone
No pain, no problem
a montra that rains in my ear
No pain over yonder
That means there's no problem here
A lifetime of bunckles, a trophy for spelling
some art that blew up in the kiln
it's glued back together with elmers and tears
it holds the pencils and looks like your uncle
the yearbook from eigth grade
and your old retainer
and a slide whistle shaped like an ostrich
then a thousand odd notes that share the same box
all spill out like guts on the highway
you'd think that the sound of cord modulation
creates this illusion of hope
the end must be happy, the end must be near
but that's not the case we have here
sometimes we change, and sometimes we don't
where there's a will there's a won't
so let's have 3 cheers for our status quo
No pain, no problem
we need to work on our cheer
no pain over yonder
that means there's no problem here
that means there's no problem here
no pain no problem