the maid

"what ails you", sinner son
grab fast for the cold one
no french maid to clean you up
no more busting dust in a cup

now the commotion
of her tidy blond hair
meets the notion
of a damsel in despair

we only pay her half a cent
and she works like that for a tenth
her name is suited for the job she does
its karen and alice and becca or fuzz

each on their own
but they have a plan
they gonna bust down that front door
with loaded guns in hand

the coolers playing cards
get shot, number one
the teevee gets shot down, second place
all the winos down on the floor

"don't do it" she hears from her bosses lips
"i'll wait for you last, you goddamn prick"
molotov cocktails from the sides
these girls mean business, no roll of the die

"come here you prick", bosses number two man
used to beat her with a fanny can
"ain't so funny now you little shit"
he cries and cries and he makes a fit
a six shooter on his tit
ain't this it

what the martyrs think now
not laughing anymore, no sound

number two man tries to run away
he's scared for treason and dismay
he slips on some blood, breaks a knee
shirley or whatever, makes him plead

"i ain't gonna kill ya yet," she says
he just opens his mouth undamned
i'm only gonna put a bullet hole
right up your rosebud

he's dead for sure
she pulls the hair
no rectum, no anus
her job was heinous

now on to the main course
her daddy, her force
he's loading his gun but the bullets are gone
daddy ain't coming home tonight, son