Busted Lawn Mower (The Neighbor's Looking) ©️2026

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V5.5

[Verse 1]
(Fast 2-step rhythm, chugging electric guitar, walking bassline)
Roll that red-deck piece of junk out on the dead-brown grass,
Pull the choke out halfway, praying to make it pass.
Gas is soaked down in the cylinder, fouling up the plug,
Sweat is stinging in my eyes like a stinging bug.
Across the street, old Henderson’s leaning on his rake,
Prehending every single move, watching my hands shake.
He’s got a battery-powered push-mower running smooth and clean,
While I’m standing here wrestling a gas-powered guillotine!

[Pre-Chorus]
(Snare drum builds rapidly, screaming pedal steel slide)
Pull the cord right out the housing, feel my shoulder pop,
If this piece of shit don't start, somebody's gonna drop!

[Chorus]
(Maximum explosive volume, roaring guitars, rowdy gang shout)
Cough up smoke and drown the plug, rip the cord and pray!
If this piece of shit don't start, someone dies today!
The neighbor’s looking over with his smug-ass iced-tea glass,
While I’m out here declaring war on half an acre of grass!
Kick the side deck, swear to God, throw a wrench across the yard,
Suburban lawn enforcement hitting levels way too hard!
Yeah, let the HOA complain, let the neighborhood keep looking—
My temper’s at a boil and the small-engine block is cooking!

[Verse 2]
(Fast driving tempo resumes, twangy Telecaster fills)
Unscrewed the air filter, gasoline is on my hands,
Looking like the casualty of tactical demands.
Wife is watching through the window, holding up a sign:
"Calm down, honey, or you're crossing back the line."
Cross the line? Look at this weed standing tall and proud,
Laughing right in my face while the neighbors crowd!
I yanked it one more time with a primal heavy scream—
Pulled the whole mother-fucker clean out the machine!

[Pre-Chorus]
(Snare roll, heavy guitar chug)
No compression in the engine, piston’s frozen tight,
Guess I’m burning down the grass tonight!

[Guitar Solo]
(Blazing fast, unhinged Telecaster solo trading off with frantic honky-tonk piano rolls and shrieking pedal steel bends)

[Bridge]
(Halftime groove breakdown, heavy kick pulse, spoken baritone chuckle)
(Laughs into the mic)
Hey Henderson... you want a turn?
(Pulls starter cord with a loud metallic clank)
Nothing? Didn't think so.
(Full drum roll launches back into double-time!)

[Chorus]
(Full throttle, absolute wall of sound, shouting gang vocals)
Cough up smoke and drown the plug, rip the cord and pray!
If this piece of shit don't start, someone dies today!
The neighbor’s looking over with his smug-ass iced-tea glass,
While I’m out here declaring war on half an acre of grass!
Kick the side deck, swear to God, throw a wrench across the yard,
Suburban lawn enforcement hitting levels way too hard!
Yeah, let the HOA complain, let the neighborhood keep looking—
My temper’s at a boil and the small-engine block is cooking!

[Outro]
(Driving 2-step kicks into overdrive, wild Telecaster bends)
Keep looking, Henderson!
Grab the gasoline!
Burn it all down!
(Big crashing finish on a G-major power chord, the sound of a metal lawn mower deck being kicked violently, and a satisfying heavy metal crash)

3927/7500

[Intro] (Fast, aggressive chicken-pickin' Telecaster intro over a chugging acoustic train beat and heavy drum kicks) (Gritty spoken baritone sneer) Pull forty-seven times... Still flooded. And I see him standing by his pristine flower bed. Hit it! [Verse 1] (Fast 2-step rhythm, chugging electric guitar, walking bassline) Roll that red-deck piece of junk out on the dead-brown grass, Pull the choke out halfway, praying to make it pass. Gas is soaked down in the cylinder, fouling up the plug, Sweat is stinging in my eyes like a stinging bug. Across the street, old Henderson’s leaning on his rake, Prehending every single move, watching my hands shake. He’s got a battery-powered push-mower running smooth and clean, While I’m standing here wrestling a gas-powered guillotine! [Pre-Chorus] (Snare drum builds rapidly, screaming pedal steel slide) Pull the cord right out the housing, feel my shoulder pop, If this piece of shit don't start, somebody's gonna drop! [Chorus] (Maximum explosive volume, roaring guitars, rowdy gang shout) Cough up smoke and drown the plug, rip the cord and pray! If this piece of shit don't start, someone dies today! The neighbor’s looking over with his smug-ass iced-tea glass, While I’m out here declaring war on half an acre of grass! Kick the side deck, swear to God, throw a wrench across the yard, Suburban lawn enforcement hitting levels way too hard! Yeah, let the HOA complain, let the neighborhood keep looking— My temper’s at a boil and the small-engine block is cooking! [Verse 2] (Fast driving tempo resumes, twangy Telecaster fills) Unscrewed the air filter, gasoline is on my hands, Looking like the casualty of tactical demands. Wife is watching through the window, holding up a sign: "Calm down, honey, or you're crossing back the line." Cross the line? Look at this weed standing tall and proud, Laughing right in my face while the neighbors crowd! I yanked it one more time with a primal heavy scream— Pulled the whole mother-fucker clean out the machine! [Pre-Chorus] (Snare roll, heavy guitar chug) No compression in the engine, piston’s frozen tight, Guess I’m burning down the grass tonight! [Chorus] (Maximum explosive volume, roaring guitars, rowdy gang shout) Cough up smoke and drown the plug, rip the cord and pray! If this piece of shit don't start, someone dies today! The neighbor’s looking over with his smug-ass iced-tea glass, While I’m out here declaring war on half an acre of grass! Kick the side deck, swear to God, throw a wrench across the yard, Suburban lawn enforcement hitting levels way too hard! Yeah, let the HOA complain, let the neighborhood keep looking— My temper’s at a boil and the small-engine block is cooking! [Guitar Solo] (Blazing fast, unhinged Telecaster solo trading off with frantic honky-tonk piano rolls and shrieking pedal steel bends) [Bridge] (Halftime groove breakdown, heavy kick pulse, spoken baritone chuckle) (Laughs into the mic) Hey Henderson... you want a turn? (Pulls starter cord with a loud metallic clank) Nothing? Didn't think so. (Full drum roll launches back into double-time!) [Chorus] (Full throttle, absolute wall of sound, shouting gang vocals) Cough up smoke and drown the plug, rip the cord and pray! If this piece of shit don't start, someone dies today! The neighbor’s looking over with his smug-ass iced-tea glass, While I’m out here declaring war on half an acre of grass! Kick the side deck, swear to God, throw a wrench across the yard, Suburban lawn enforcement hitting levels way too hard! Yeah, let the HOA complain, let the neighborhood keep looking— My temper’s at a boil and the small-engine block is cooking! [Outro] (Driving 2-step kicks into overdrive, wild Telecaster bends) Keep looking, Henderson! Grab the gasoline! Burn it all down! (Big crashing finish on a G-major power chord, the sound of a metal lawn mower deck being kicked violently, and a satisfying heavy metal crash)

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