Dead Beat Mom

She’s a dead beat mom, a one woman pogrom A tri-polar paradigm, a lunatika time bomb When everything is alright, she makes everything wrong Living only to spite and spit napalm, she’s a dead beat mom She’s a dead beat mom, she’s a dead beat mom She’s a dead beat mom, a storm without a calm VPA and Lithium is what she should be on An emotional vacuum, a good vibe tampon She got her degree in poisonous pedagogy A course taught by her mom Someone stop her before she destroys The childhoods of my two boys My sons mean everything to me So I pray for some agency to tell her that she’s wrong But the Dead Beat Mom isn’t able to hack it She needs to be in a Prada straight jacket A padded rubber room is where she belong It’s a perfect place for, maybe add some mace for The Dead Beat Mom, she’s my Vietnam I got PTSD and an STD Is everything ok? NO EVERYTHING IS WRONG Last week I saw her humming this song She’s a dead beat mom, she’s a dead beat mom She’s a dead beat mom, she’s a dead beat mom