Suburban Wife's Sick-of-Home Blues

Johnny's in the basement,
Mixin' up dad's implements.
You're making payments
To the friggin' government.
One kid has got trenchmouth,
Got a bad cough.
Your husband got laid off. . .
Hoggin' at the boss's trough.
Mind those kids,
They're out buyin' lids—
Payin' ten
For a bag that's full of stems.
The garbage truck in the alleyway
Makin' the trash cans bend.
Jar's bruised your skin, 'cause the cap
Won't open.
Got eleven months of bills. . .
Can only pay ten.
Like to have feet put
On a cassock, 'cause
You're just feelin' beat, but
Gotta make the bed up.
Phone ain't workin' today.
Your cell's screen is stuck on "A."
You must dust—the cloth is stained.
Order-keepin''s a pain.
Zoned-out kids;
The dumb dog took a whiz,
So walk on tiptoes
And hold your nose
Try to water your prize rose—
Your neighbor's stolen your hose.
On TV, the weather man
Says "heat," but it's ten below.
That slick hair gel—
Put it on, the strands fell.
Ring the bell; pests sell
Junk that you don't need—this is hell!
That hard glass shard—
Marred your thumb nail,
Impaled. Junk mail
From Macy's—they got a sale.
F*ck this sh*t!
You want a big hit,
But booze is cheaper;
Kids are users;
Each one's got a beeper.
Get in the whirlpool—
You view a floating stool.
Who cranked the heater?
Watch the 'lectric meter.
Above norm—it's warm.
Mend pants, diazepam, in a trance
Undressed. Get fressed?
Can't get him to say "yes."
Tease, stir, please quim—your rift
Won't make him lift
Twenty years of toolin';
He's no longer got a stick shift.
That last kid
Stretched out your lips' lid.
Now he won't hump—that a**hole
Even if you handle
Or mandible
His quickly shrinking manfull
You wanna get you some.
Like gum in the sun,
His pump don't work,
So you have span a candle.