The Bite Back Rant

The day you breathe an apology Defiantly shall be your last As a prehistoric solidified man And what gives you the right? Even to think you can speak to me And treat me that way, So you climb into bed as always Ruffling the sheets like its sun-dried hay But babe you aren't going there This isn't a ballot voting box… For none of the loving above party And I won't be a part of that Empty holding the baby nonsense So you might as well have the pox Cause there are no prizes For being a lord and masters dog, So take the couch you're good for nothing Foul-mouthed unapologetic slouch.