Why are we still sneaking behind the backs of people we don't love anymore?
We don't love em anymore.
Because I am so sick of living in a bone dry marriage,
I don't even know what the f*ck I'm even thing anymore,
my kids a f*cking pervert he smears cum on the computer desk.
My husband, a money grubbing pill eating cheat,
but I can't say I don't pop em too though.
When I feel f*ckin sick.
I feel f*ckin sick.
Now that my gardens dried up,
what do I have to life for?
Where is the man of my dreams?
Where's the cornucopia feast?
And cherry red convertible.
I won't ride the wings of my cockroach mother,
I'm too young to die inside