• I couldn't take out the trash,
    I couldn't kill the mice,
    I couldn't get dressed properly,
    I couldn't do anything.

    My mother yelled at me so much,
    It didn't seem right.
    Mother thought I was stupid;
    I couldn't do anything right.

    I suppose pain always has the right of way,
    It's what my mother always said.
    So she punched me when I didn't do something her way,
    seemed like always an enternity.

    Finally, she got so tired of me and my crappy ways,
    she woke me up in the middle of the night,
    not so nicely, I might add,
    and dropped me off at this alleyway.

    I never dared go back,
    So here I am now.
    I dig stuff to eat out of the garbage,
    my home is a box.

    My mother's name?
    I don't remember, but I don't care.
    Now leave me alone,
    you've heard my story.