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**k I'm even thing anymore, My kids a f**king 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**kin sick. I feel f**kin 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