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This is completely a work of fiction based on Poetic License, a Wild Imagination and the hopeless, cluelessness of a Male asea in incomprehensible "energy." I've been informed that the entire episode was a figment of my imagination. Of course, no living person is identified or implied. Because, as the song indicates, any Male who thinks he understands what is going on, is a Damned Fool!
You Betcha.
Gawd help ye weary Gentlemen, it's time to run away
Mother's come a-visiting a week 'fore Chrismas Day
She's bearing loads of heavy baggage, there's tens of years to pay
And She's lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And She's lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
There is no room for Mother, in a house which has a wife,
The sub-text is so horrible you can cut it with a knife
There's no way out, tradition says, that there must always be strife
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
Guests stink like fish after three days; so better stay a week
The guard is up in just three hours; seeking out a reek
No time to waste, the war begins. Oh God we're up the Creek.
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
The Harlot's stealing Mother's Son like a midnight burg-u-lar
Mother wants to steal the kids and take them off afar
But she'll probably lose her mind again and beat them with a bar
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
The wife is ready for defense, let nothing be uncruel
There's nothing anyone can say to make her keep her cool
She knows that even the nicest words, are an underhanded tool
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
Oh, foolish man don't even try to make sense of the strife
The weapons that these women use are worse than any knife
And if you try to understand; entanglements spring rife.
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
The prudent Gent is already more than halfway to the car
'Cause if he speaks he'll only bring, upon himself the war
Perhaps he can preserve himself by hiding at a bar
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic war, Psy-i-chic war
And they're lo-oaded for insane Psychic War.
Written while considering self-committal for a three day "Max Thorazine" vacation at Sempervirons "Rest" home)