She used to be the one who held me closest to her heart
We were like one person, but we've drifted far apart
Now when I need her most, she will not support me
And if I won't go quietly, she'll have to report me
She wants me to act like some middle-aged man
I used to think she knew me, but she can't understand
That it's hard to make a living doing watercolor and collage
That's why I'm forty years old and I'm living in my Mom's garage

My girlfriend's all but finished with her graduate degree
She always knows the questions when we're watching "Jeopardy"
There's a coffeehouse near campus where her work is on display
The critics from the weekly paper go there everyday
She's a true creative, which they cannot abide
So they compensate by being condescending and snide
They say her work's a mangled mess of macrame and mucilage
But they're all forty years old and they're living in their Mom's garage
 
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's ga
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's ga
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's garage
 
My hobbies are Godzilla movies, mountain biking, and triage
I've got to relax 'cause I get so stressed from this incessant negative barrage 

Mom wakes me up, she needs the car, for what I can't say
She dresses up and goes out early almost every day
I try to explain that an artist needs his rest
At least 12 hours, so I can be my best
Now I'm outside sleeping under the hedge
But someday they'll recognize me as the genius with an edge

I'll meet with the New York elite,
I'll be the Duke of Decoupage
With a carhole full of limos for my sycophantic entourage
Hey, at least I'm chasing something, even if it's only a mirage
But now I'm forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's ga (fifty!)
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's ga (sixty!)
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's garage
Now I'm forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's ga (seventy!)
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's ga (dead!)
Forty years old and I'm livin' in my Mom's garage

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