11/16/11
We have two kids too many;
Two is what you needed.
We're down to our last penny,
Not like my word'll be heeded.
We've got a swing,
Back in the corner of the yard;
The kids won't play there,
Not while we're near.
I've got a feeling;
You've got more.
You tell me to tell you how I feel;
I feel like I want to kill us all.
Baby, baby, baby;
You want more babies?
You keep them, bitch.
You keep alllll of them.
Do what I feel?
How about I show you how I feel –
I'm filthy after a night of beer and poker.
I want to fuck you like a rabid squirrel.
We go to a councilor,
You dominate the stage.
You're looking pretty empathetic,
Mirroring Dr. Clark's analysis of my rage.
Dr. Clark tells me resentment is normal,
On both sides. She's a fan of total acceptance,
So she's setting up the frame for nothing getting changed.
You wonder how I get so enflamed.
We fight at those swings;
The kids don't see them the way we did.
I remember those 3 AM talks;
All the kids know is that I make them bad.
Clark says we need to be open,
But accept the reality of each other;
We're presented with 13 years of hatred.
You're pretty well catered, in this feminist's office.
I'm feeling biased,
Based on the feeling that Clark
Wants to rip off my junk.
Clark looks at me like a hated food.
Do what I feel?
What if I feel like gunning us all down?
What if, in the night I come for you?
Do you understand the temptation of my contempt?
I hate the kids, let's face it.
They're just like you –
Prissy pretty bitches;
Primal prima donnas.
Do what I feel?
I feel like breaking faces,
Smashing vases.
Fuck all your Shania Twain cases.
Quit telling me what to do,
And I'll quit lying about why I do 'em.
Quit following my every thought,
As if there's a solution in that realm.
Do what I feel?
Feel what you know?
You feel so much that it makes me wheeze.
I'll never grow, if you're going to force the breeze.
