As Fast As Rotting Bananas

Its Sunday morning the milk is bad i'm still in my pajamas,
So I drink instead the orange juice from the bottle of Tropicana.
Attempting to make a sandwich but the bread is stale and moldy,
On this hangover afternoon what in God's name is wrong with all that is unholy.
The things around this house rots as fast as bananas.

I go to crack the eggs and see that their expired,
Another bit of spoiled food man i'm getting fired.
I wonder who does the shopping around here,
As I bite the dog and drink a beer.
Think i'll just go back to bed i'm still feeling rather tired.