My dad, he is a concern, makes stomachs churn, he ruins days.
He sure does like being rude—keeps picking at your food.
He likes revealing farts—it ruins my evenings.

He swore, no more jokes about Jews. They threw my dates askew.
And why don’t, why can’t he understand
Chauvinist jokes are banned?
Behind couches all the time, he jumps out to scare you.

But I cannot leave—you know I’m stuck ‘til school is through.
When I have dates around, you linger.
Do I have to pull your finger? Do I have to? I don’t want to,
Do you have to point your finger?

Oh, I’ve gotten world from you,
A land of things like your bong,
And your man-thongs (which are wrong).
If you, if you could just try being not that guy,
Throw away all your condoms used—Are you pegging me amused?
But you’d rather always go
Around showing your webbed toes.

But I cannot leave—You know I’m stuck humoring you.
You’ve got me trapped pulling your finger.
Do you have to point that finger? Do I have to, do I have to,
Do I have to pull that finger?

But I cannot see—You get so many girls, how do…
How do you get so many zingers?
Do you let them pull your finger? Do you let them, do you let them,
Do you let them pull your finger?

You know you’re such a fool, don’t you?
You’ve got those webbed toes on your feeters.
Do I have to pull your finger? Do I have to, do I have to,
Do I have to pull your finger?