claire

Oh flowers in the dining room at dusk

Its dinner time

And when mamma strikes the gong, its time to have

Bertha*s nice lamb with mint sauce

Oh she*s put a lamb to slaughter

Lamb to slaughter



Claire, she paints her nails

Whines and giggles on cue

She*s the familiar note in your heart

oh daddy, please don*t go!



she*s a yes person growing up in a no environment



and when she*s been tucked in,

kissed by mamma, daddy, bertha.

She slips out of her pink, teddy bear pajamas

And into hardly anything at all



It was a mistake to let her have the bedroom on the first floor.



The window used to squeak, but a bita butter did the trick jus’ fine

Shes a trailer trash girl living in suburbia

Shes a city whore living in suburbia

Shes a night prowler choking on the homophobic, sexist

PURIFIED

Air of suburbia



The bottom of her butt cheeks are visible

And wearing those boots, her legs look a mile long

Is that a push up?? Or implants?? Either way, those have GOT to be fake.



She*ll fuck the first one who so much as breathes the word “heroin”



Oh, wilted flowers in the dining room at dawn


Little winkins is up, my, how flattering those pjs are!

Oh what a beautiful little lamb daughter I have!

Have you finished that darling book, Ivanhoe, dear?





No mother, im still working on Little Women