Faderhead

Hello Mr. Fetus, one arm, one leg, one eye
One parent wants you, one parent in denial
Just one careless Saturday night
In a rusty car behind the multiplex
Mr. Penis now works nine to five
On minimum wage
Just so your blue babybook can add
Another stained, stained, curled page
Mr. Fetus, how do you feel?
You walking, talking, drooling welfare check
Let mother fill your ears with the words "Heaven Sent"