Mr. Smith

Invite me over

I'll pick up flowers on the way

And way more

Let's just hope your old man isn't at the door

'Cause he loves to pout

And he kicked me out

Don't worry, I saved up money so we can eat out

Under the stars at your favorite restaurant

The one just south of Emigration Canyon

Oh, you can't, babe?

I understand

You have seminary, I know

I thought you said you were through

Hey baby, is it true?

He likes him better with you

That old-fashioned Draper kid

With that missionary name

But just last week, we were smoking weed

On my bedroom floor in our underwear

And I can't sleep, I need you

But your body is a temple

And your dad thinks I'm the devil

Ah-ha

And this is quite familiar

Late-night drive home in my car

And even though you don't live that far

We have to drive halfway up the canyon

Just the odds that we might see his companion

Your dad would lose his mind

And to you, that's more important than mine

Than mine

Well, I hope you're happily married, baby