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