Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
Not for the things that are out of your control
That are out of your hands
That are out of my mind
That are out of this world
As to why you would think you needed to apologize for such things.
Don't. Please. Don't apologize to me.
When you make the food and you clean, prep, shake, bake, chop, char, sizzle, drip, scrub, wash, scrape, and pick at the dried-on food on the dishes in the aftermath to repeat it all over again for the kitchen's next use.
When you gather the troops to send off to finger painting and algebra that you don't quite understand and with the clothes you have to wash, fold, find, match, sew, buy, steam, iron, button, stain, bleach, work, tear, and mend again so when they come back with more dirty
You can give them a replacement garment once more.
When you break your back and you strain because that's what you're supposed to do when you're a good mother
To provide for the household
On your minimum wage
On your feet again
On your last dollar
On your back
On your knees again, begging to God you'll get that raise, that new job, that different job, that enjoyable job, that worry-free, wine tasting, bourgeois bitch, housewives reality job
To support the nest you call home of those that might or might not deserve your articulate care.
Don't apologize to me when I walk in
About how messy your house is
About how you didn't have time
About your makeup not done in three days
About the Starbucks buildup in your car
Because that's all the time you have for breakfast and you call it Me Time.
Don't apologize for a damn thing.
And Sir, baby, honey, mister mister, daddy, my cream puff, my chocolate dream, my Asian persuasion, sugar, totem pole, lemondrop, my desire, man at the liquor store, guy at the library, dude winking at his baby momma, my good morning coffee on a Sunday morning that was well deserved after a night of tiresome work,
Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
When you kiss me as we're making dinner because we've both been through hell and this is the time we can be peaceful in our own little cottage
Making ramen when we're down and
Making lobster when we're up and
You get that twinge, that hankering, that inkling, that mustering feeling, that impulse, that fire, that push, that savage, that hard on that is gonna make momma happy because you love her.
Because she loves you.
Because you show her affection
Because you shower her with devotion, and love, and commitment, and strength
Because you are her rock, her man, her companion, her Person, her one that she calls when the lady with the loan company is being a fucking twat and is trying to charge her ten dollars to make a fucking hefty payment.
You take care of your woman, your lady, your gal
To the best of your ability
No questions, only answers
To find some way to be closer to her and make it so the universe can't get in your way.
Don't apologize to me when we're laying there
And you're naked and I'm wet
And you're ready and I'm smiling
And I breathe in the ecstasy of our sexy smells
And your face says it all
That you already released.
Don't apologize to me.
Not for your body's reaction to our pleasure
Not for the quick fire because some magazine told the world
You're a novice unless it's two hours
And she's shaking
And your dick is falling off
And you both drank 2 gallons of water in the process
With scented lube all over the place
And now you have to shower off the stank
When you could have just simply made love
With your woman.
Shown your affection.
Love is deeper than sex.
Don't apologize to me. (I know I'm hot)
I see you there in the corner as well.
Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
I see you cowering, frail, beaten, stabbed, hurt, run over, run down, ran away
Into the darkness, trying to find shelter, trying to find witness, trying to find someone
Or something that can help you escape your torture.
When you space out into other worlds, grab your controller, your paint brush, your computer, your hiking stick, your running shoes and get the fuck out of here.
When you've surrounded yourself with the Wrong
And the best way to make it all right is to separate;
Make yourself right.
You can't change them, you want to, it sucks, I know, you're powerless, they're greedy, you try, try, try, your efforts so lost in translation it just looks like you love to support their bad habits.
You love supporting their abuse and take their hit
You love supporting their habit and you supply
You love, love, love this don't you?
Take it, take more, your pain and theirs
All burdens, all hatred, all bills, all drugs, all shots, all illusions, all psychotic fucking breakdowns at WalMart because she can't have a fucking coke and has to take Pepsi just one time.
Don't apologize to me for wanting nothing
To do with this world.
When you much rather read your book at home
Than get thrown back into the parties and become the DD every. Single. Time.
When you want to hide out, hide away, in your place, in your escape, on your bed,
You introvert, you
Wanting to just have peace in your world
Peace of mind, of stability, of mankind, of your neighbour, of your future,
Just sticking to yourself
Because you trust yourself.
Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
Apologize for being a shitty human being.
Apologize for choosing money over friendship.
Apologize for your children acting like fucking assholes because "oh, kids will be kids"
No, you fucktard, restrain that thing and teach it manners
Apologize for believing you can buy a $5 drink and get poon because
that says something about you as a fucking person.
Apologize for having no morals, character, decency, tact, diplomacy, grace, or willingness to pick up your own goddamn garbage from the beach you'd been partying on for a whole day.
Apologize for doing these things on purpose
With ill intent
With a blind eye
With intention of ignoring what your father fucking knows he instilled in you
In your brothers
In your sisters
In your cousins
In your friends
That you should be ashamed of yourself for blatantly being an ignorant piece of shit that no one can stand to be around anymore because of your festering, negative, black hole space that surrounds everywhere you walk.
Apologize for just being a pent up ball of frustrations that verbally menstruates all over the Chinese buffet about rights and getting the last crab ragoon but don't apologize, my dear, for being a beautiful person that shows that you tried.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
Not for the things that are out of your control
That are out of your hands
That are out of my mind
That are out of this world
As to why you would think you needed to apologize for such things.
Don't. Please. Don't apologize to me.
When you make the food and you clean, prep, shake, bake, chop, char, sizzle, drip, scrub, wash, scrape, and pick at the dried-on food on the dishes in the aftermath to repeat it all over again for the kitchen's next use.
When you gather the troops to send off to finger painting and algebra that you don't quite understand and with the clothes you have to wash, fold, find, match, sew, buy, steam, iron, button, stain, bleach, work, tear, and mend again so when they come back with more dirty
You can give them a replacement garment once more.
When you break your back and you strain because that's what you're supposed to do when you're a good mother
To provide for the household
On your minimum wage
On your feet again
On your last dollar
On your back
On your knees again, begging to God you'll get that raise, that new job, that different job, that enjoyable job, that worry-free, wine tasting, bourgeois bitch, housewives reality job
To support the nest you call home of those that might or might not deserve your articulate care.
Don't apologize to me when I walk in
About how messy your house is
About how you didn't have time
About your makeup not done in three days
About the Starbucks buildup in your car
Because that's all the time you have for breakfast and you call it Me Time.
Don't apologize for a damn thing.
And Sir, baby, honey, mister mister, daddy, my cream puff, my chocolate dream, my Asian persuasion, sugar, totem pole, lemondrop, my desire, man at the liquor store, guy at the library, dude winking at his baby momma, my good morning coffee on a Sunday morning that was well deserved after a night of tiresome work,
Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
When you kiss me as we're making dinner because we've both been through hell and this is the time we can be peaceful in our own little cottage
Making ramen when we're down and
Making lobster when we're up and
You get that twinge, that hankering, that inkling, that mustering feeling, that impulse, that fire, that push, that savage, that hard on that is gonna make momma happy because you love her.
Because she loves you.
Because you show her affection
Because you shower her with devotion, and love, and commitment, and strength
Because you are her rock, her man, her companion, her Person, her one that she calls when the lady with the loan company is being a fucking twat and is trying to charge her ten dollars to make a fucking hefty payment.
You take care of your woman, your lady, your gal
To the best of your ability
No questions, only answers
To find some way to be closer to her and make it so the universe can't get in your way.
Don't apologize to me when we're laying there
And you're naked and I'm wet
And you're ready and I'm smiling
And I breathe in the ecstasy of our sexy smells
And your face says it all
That you already released.
Don't apologize to me.
Not for your body's reaction to our pleasure
Not for the quick fire because some magazine told the world
You're a novice unless it's two hours
And she's shaking
And your dick is falling off
And you both drank 2 gallons of water in the process
With scented lube all over the place
And now you have to shower off the stank
When you could have just simply made love
With your woman.
Shown your affection.
Love is deeper than sex.
Don't apologize to me. (I know I'm hot)
I see you there in the corner as well.
Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
I see you cowering, frail, beaten, stabbed, hurt, run over, run down, ran away
Into the darkness, trying to find shelter, trying to find witness, trying to find someone
Or something that can help you escape your torture.
When you space out into other worlds, grab your controller, your paint brush, your computer, your hiking stick, your running shoes and get the fuck out of here.
When you've surrounded yourself with the Wrong
And the best way to make it all right is to separate;
Make yourself right.
You can't change them, you want to, it sucks, I know, you're powerless, they're greedy, you try, try, try, your efforts so lost in translation it just looks like you love to support their bad habits.
You love supporting their abuse and take their hit
You love supporting their habit and you supply
You love, love, love this don't you?
Take it, take more, your pain and theirs
All burdens, all hatred, all bills, all drugs, all shots, all illusions, all psychotic fucking breakdowns at WalMart because she can't have a fucking coke and has to take Pepsi just one time.
Don't apologize to me for wanting nothing
To do with this world.
When you much rather read your book at home
Than get thrown back into the parties and become the DD every. Single. Time.
When you want to hide out, hide away, in your place, in your escape, on your bed,
You introvert, you
Wanting to just have peace in your world
Peace of mind, of stability, of mankind, of your neighbour, of your future,
Just sticking to yourself
Because you trust yourself.
Don't apologize to me.
Not for the wrong kind of things.
Apologize for being a shitty human being.
Apologize for choosing money over friendship.
Apologize for your children acting like fucking assholes because "oh, kids will be kids"
No, you fucktard, restrain that thing and teach it manners
Apologize for believing you can buy a $5 drink and get poon because
that says something about you as a fucking person.
Apologize for having no morals, character, decency, tact, diplomacy, grace, or willingness to pick up your own goddamn garbage from the beach you'd been partying on for a whole day.
Apologize for doing these things on purpose
With ill intent
With a blind eye
With intention of ignoring what your father fucking knows he instilled in you
In your brothers
In your sisters
In your cousins
In your friends
That you should be ashamed of yourself for blatantly being an ignorant piece of shit that no one can stand to be around anymore because of your festering, negative, black hole space that surrounds everywhere you walk.
Apologize for just being a pent up ball of frustrations that verbally menstruates all over the Chinese buffet about rights and getting the last crab ragoon but don't apologize, my dear, for being a beautiful person that shows that you tried.
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