Choices

The boy, he acts like he’s a selfish entitled cunt,
His mother thinks nature or nurture, puts it down to being a runt
But parental choices, they extend further than gene selection,
They’re more than just choosing the guy with the erection

You say you appreciate the things that I’ve done,
I shouldn’t worry he’s on the path to getting a gun.
You criticise me for my negative foresight,
Perhaps one day you’ll see I was damn well right.

Is it any wonder he’s turned out this way,
When you look at the things you’ve let be ok.
If its responsibility you want him to take,
Then start by owning the fucking mistakes that you make.

Forgive me when I just can’t take anymore,
Don’t come at me with you’re f*ck you claw.
I write this so I don’t say it to you,
But what does it matter, we’re probably through.