I know those socks are doing wrong
|What really goes on in that drawer
when I’m asleep at night?
What do they do that I don’t know
when they are out of sight?
Sometimes I hear them moving ‘round,
their footsteps soft and light.
I try to cover up my ears
and close my eyes real tight.
I know those socks are doing wrong;
they have a secret rite.
They plot and plan to rule the world;
they will put up a fight.
Those colored socks are causing grief;
they’re mixing with the white.
That means there will be hell to pay.
They cackle with delight.
It’s up to me and only me
to thwart this evil plight.
Yes, I alone can save the world;
I’ll try with all my might.
Just then I wake and face the day,
my heart still filled with fright,
‘til I recover from that dream
and everything’s all right.