I was looking for a change, to sing a song I’d never sung and I found it in babies and how I’d never had one how they’re ugly as a Trump, shriveled old men how on milk they get drunk and puke all over the playpen and no matter how many times you tell them to abstain they’ll do it again and again, again and again
Self-centered little fiends, they crap wherever they like then take forever to learn how and where to do it right And by the time they have teeth and can finally chew if they don’t like their feed, they’ll spit that up on you too If they don’t like... anything they’ll wail and whine till they’re blue and your ears will be ringing by the time they’re finally through It’s a simple fact of life, a tribulation so true: Babies only care for themselves, babies care nothing for you
But despite the roaring din and boring waterworks, there’s something to be said for those nasty little jerks, something to be said for telling the unvarnished truth and that’s what they’re all yelling until their last milk tooth
I want this, I want that, I’m too cold, I’m too hot I want more, I want less, happy I am, happy I’m not Never going in circles (except when they try to walk) No beating around the bush in baby straight talk Truth incarnate and no hint of vanity in this downy concentrate... of humanity
Ah, but you have to carry them everywhere, some can’t even crawl And spouting nothing but gibberish, they make no sense at all The time you waste trying to decipher ‘em, you’ll never get that back and then you have to diaper ‘em, going down the river of baby scat Tiny tyrants, pint-sized autocrats, Exploiting your affection, they abuse your best intentions, and leave you regretting sidestepping contraception
With their pampered pleas and cries to be coddled and nursed and their grievance-gushing eyes, lord, babies are the worst It’s a simple fact of life, a sad reality oh so true: Babies only care for themselves, babies care nothing for you
I’ll never be a seeder, never be a breeder, never one day multiply never ever know how it feels to hear your very own baby cry But this is not the end of the world, for the world’s long overrun Better care for those already there melting in the unfiltered sun They didn’t ask to be here, to survive getting by on the dregs but the smoking sphere we’re leaving them is on its last legs...
