Mum's spent a life working in retail,
Selling blokes her fuck-tail.
No need to get philosophical,
Mum's style purely agricultural.
There is no greater chore, than when I must withdraw, and clean the clotted menses from your mother's bathroom floor.
Playground nonce dad, peeling his banana,
Trying to ascend to the state of "paedo nirvana".
Some bogs-blokes were left feeling unwell,
After exposure to mum's rancid twat smell.
Your mum's in constant demand in the train station bogs,
despite her face resembling 'a box of frogs'.
Even though dad’s barely got a willy
He’s definitely a paedophile
Order 10,000 gallons of tramp piss off the dark web
When pressed, dad's forced to concede,
That his weird, tiny prick has never actually "sex weed".
Mum's pleased,
To be coated in "dick-sneeze."
