Grease Trap

You're talking so much fire and brimstone,

You're cooking me alive.

You could be the sous-chef of hell's kitchen.

Your only mood is fight-or-flight.

I see the way you've been living,

And it seems something ain't quite right.

Yeah, I can smell something bubbling up.

You know you've gotta clean out the grease trap sometimes.

Oh, you'd better tread lightly, 'cause Mama always said:

You keep making all those faces and they're gonna stick like that.

Oh, you'd better be careful, 'cause Mama always told us: