Similac

[Les Mouches]

I think just a bit too often about it
The future of my son will make me go
At 3am to embrace his sleeping form
My son you don't know what I must go through

I get up, get up, get up, get up to shake my flabby Trotsky
I get off, get off, get off, get off to see them try to run
My son you are my maple leaf, you are my Patrick Swayze
I birthed you, I gotta feed you

Remember when Mommy caught Mommy's Johnny in the john?
I kicked away your cigarette butts and told you then
You will definitely definitely be a straight sober church-goer
And not a foppo junkie or a dude

Woot woot. Get the phone. Is it a man? Does he sound foreign?
Eat shit! He's just a brzhzhz. It's my son, he's a brhzhzh!

Red hot! I am not! I am not! I was never! Got a son! It's O.K.! Got a son, golden, golden!

[fiona]

Why's this here? It's not on the E/LPs right, but surely it can't be new. I'm confused.