A Rottweiler Wearing Kors

Girl this kid is bipolar like burgers
Without the toppings, chips without the salt,
She’s made of two-faced fuckery
And promises blown like kisses
– They’re not the real thing.
She wears the Kors
And drags her carcass across the floor
Like its duped up, moved up
Yuppy stuff that’s bleeding like
A Slush Puppy from a sperm cup
So when I’m next to my boyfriend
I cannot stop cheesing
He makes my chest burst and my skull burn
And I stop breathing
The roll of the eyes and the twitch of her smile
Tells me she’s coked up on her own hype
And it’s wild
Like kittens to cats and nips to fat tits
It’s the switch that takes the piss,
I’m not made for fuck-ups
And duplicitous “I only will be there when I need this”
My money would be better spent
On a monkey that chews meth
And keeps me company by pulling my hair
And giving me funny stares
Like the kids did when I was in school
Wearing my hair in a baggy bun that looked
Like a fucking cocoon,
I’ll reiterate the verse again,
My money would be better spent
On putting it where my mouth is
On women who wear too short a skirt
And how her fatness sands down her efforts
– Oh she can talk like a Carrie Bradshaw
And make her life sound so great
With the fifty types of blusher she has
Makes her look like a scarlet wedding cake
I tower my opinions over her because I can
I made my bitch-verses
Sound like she went off with my man
But I’m too tired of following a Rottweiler
Like its wearing a Prada collar,
Was I ever the type to go to Leeds Festival
Take drugs and drink until I look evil
– Never,
But my mother and father shell my soul
To the purest God of them all
And I would keep any enemy of mine closer
If the pasty piece wasn’t in the way,
How much does that say?
That people I find truly abominable don’t even fit
Into the Shit List
I drew up for the same folk who for me,
Never gave a fuck,
I look like Sarah Palin on spliffs and
I’ve overdosed on meat
And lost my glasses to the ghost on speed
Like I’m Velma,
But Scooby next to me wants me to pay
Too many dollars for Scooby Snacks
Cos it’s an “occasion”
I’d rather not celebrate
But deliberate on its validity
Like an event as pretty as Good Friday
Swear it by a kiss
I’m done with “pussy”
And as for friends it’s an N/A
On the register for me,
Oh and if you see a Rottweiler wearing Kors
Tell them that they forgot to eat
That shitty carcass beside my front door.

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