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