my father's married to a shape shifting monster
who can sometimes take the form
of a really, really, really nice woman.
and although that seems super fucking frightening,
sometimes the scary monster makes
a really, really, great vanilla pudding, he has courage.
but sometimes your courage isn't quite the kryptonite
as the monster runs rampant through the house.
sometimes your courage makes you feel strong,
but it seems as if the monster eats your muscles all along.
fucking picking out your self-respect right out its scary teeth,
her breath smells like pride of self and other men she used to meet.
and the monster doesn't sleep, it just schemes and fiends
on the next tasty meal it gets to eat
it gets to eat
it gets to eat.
Father by Hobo Johnson
