As I drive through a residential neighborhood I often wonder what cool stuff is going down in those garages and basements.
And the words/lyrics:
What's he building in there?
What the hell is he building in there?
He has subscriptions to those magazines
He never waves when he goes by
He's hiding something from the rest of us
He's all to himself, I think I know why
He took down the tire swing from the pepper tree
He has no children of his own, you see
He has no dog, he has no friends and his lawn is dying
And what about all those packages he sends?
What's he building in there?
With that hook light on the stairs
What's he building in there?
I'll tell you one thing, he's not building a playhouse for the children
What's he building in there?
Now, what's that sound from underneath the door?
He's pounding nails into a hardwood floor
And I swear to God, I heard someone moaning low
And I keep seeing the blue light of a TV show
He has a router and a table saw
And you won't believe what Mr. Sticha saw
There's poison underneath the sink, of course
But there's also enough formaldehyde to choke a horse
What's he building in there?
What the hell is he building in there?
I heard he has an ex-wife
In some place called Mayor's Income, Tennessee
And he used to have a consulting business in Indonesia
But what's he building in there?
He has no friends, but he gets a lot of mail
I'll bet he spent a little time in jail
I heard he was up on the roof last night, signaling with a flashlight
And what's that tune he's always whistling?
What's he building in there?
What's he building in there?
We have a right to know