There’s a black cloud hanging over
the boys playing in the park
While they argue who is correct
mothers watch them from afar
Now there’s Billy screaming loudly
clawing at this boy named Mark
Who his mother she is absent
somewhere screaming in the dark.
It’s a Sunday what a fun day
boy let’s pass the ball around
He’s a shy son name is Ricky
staring at his father now
He is pitching like a Yankee
throwing hard with all his might
All the while there is Ricky
scared to death screaming inside.
There are blue jays singing robins
bugs and inchworms puffy clouds
On the playground there are children
swinging madly laughing loud
Cause it’s Sunday what a fun day
to be playing in the park
Except for Ricky, Billy’s mother
and Mark crying in the dark.
Now the children they all line up
ice cream bells ring all around
He’s a kind man I mean probably
he just smiles at the crowd
Screw-ball sundaes chocolate cookies
candy gleaming in his hand
For the children ask no questions
they just stand and stand and stand.
Now the mothers call the boys in
from the awful looking cloud
Billy’s mother reprimands him
as Mark’s mother has a cow
Oh your father she is shouting
Ricky hears her from afar
As his father whips a fast one
knocking Ricky to the ground.
There are stars now spinning circles
sending shivers down Mark’s spine
While his father who is furious
warns him hell boy you’ll be fine
As Mark stands and sees the dark cloud
fill with light ready to burst
Cats and dogs rain down around him
he thinks what’s he who’s on first.
So the moral of this story
is not what keeps you in line
It’s the people in the park who
I do not wish to define
They are people who like people
look quite normal in the park
While the sad suburban father’s
dingle dangle in the dark.