Then the babies return
๐ต 2688 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:29 duration
๐ ID: 21621331
๐ Lyrics
I'm on a Winnebago trip
The fridge inside contains Champagne and food
Outside a sandworm is travelling down the dunes
Spawning up the rivers of sand
We come across the others
One is a small, blonde, skinny guy who's an anthropologist
He has a curved, Arabian-styled knife, and cuts me in a fight
That'll teach me
I talk about the insecurity of
young girls, and the fear drives him off
Leaving me with his collection of Moroccan knives
With their ornate, ivory handles and witching middle-eastern vibes.
My old boyfriend Peter appears, and hits me up for a (?)
He's flat busted, and I'm not surprised.
Then the babies return
The first is a nine year old boy
He's blonde, cute, and an ornery little devil
I freak out
This kid should be sent West
He's hyperactive, and should be with horses
Then I realize, he's my child! The one I had with Peter
Except I don't remember having him
I'm overcome with guilt that I haven't been there for him
During his formulive years
Now he's out of control. Just like his father. A bum
Then another child arrives
It's a little girl, and her name is Dorean
She's accompanied by a woman with both her
And the little boy's adoption papers
According to the papers, I am their mother
Dorean was born in 1971, and she is half-black. Mulatto
She looks like a little peanut. A little brown, roasted peanut
And now I know who the Father was! It was Lee
That good-looking, black guy
Who lived downtown on the other side of the tracks
I kind of remember sleeping with him
But I was on a couple of Quaaludes at the time
I discovered I was pregnant about a month later
When I was visiting my Nana
I didn't know who the father was, but when my Dad demanded to be told
It was bad enough that I was pregnant and seventeen
But it would be far worse to say,
"It could've been one of three people, Dad"
That he couldn't have handled
So I guess I didn't have that abortion we (?) flew to DC for
I had the baby. I was given a second chance.
Then I start to think
Well, there goes my career, and Brad is sure to leave me now
I don't have his number so I call my friend Steve
Who's supposed to be doing a video.
And he tells me that the MTV people waited and waited
But then they finally went away mad
And I tried to explain to him that I couldn't leave my babies
Not now. Not again
And I'm calling from a gas-station in West Virginia
Where my husband waits for me
Inside his broken-down old Chevy pickup
This is my new life
Now I'm a hick housewife from West Virginia
With an unemployed husband and two screaming kids
I say goodbye to being a movie star
And feed little Dorean with a tin
pan filled with cookies and crackers.
And think to myself
Keebler makes a good cracker
The fridge inside contains Champagne and food
Outside a sandworm is travelling down the dunes
Spawning up the rivers of sand
We come across the others
One is a small, blonde, skinny guy who's an anthropologist
He has a curved, Arabian-styled knife, and cuts me in a fight
That'll teach me
I talk about the insecurity of
young girls, and the fear drives him off
Leaving me with his collection of Moroccan knives
With their ornate, ivory handles and witching middle-eastern vibes.
My old boyfriend Peter appears, and hits me up for a (?)
He's flat busted, and I'm not surprised.
Then the babies return
The first is a nine year old boy
He's blonde, cute, and an ornery little devil
I freak out
This kid should be sent West
He's hyperactive, and should be with horses
Then I realize, he's my child! The one I had with Peter
Except I don't remember having him
I'm overcome with guilt that I haven't been there for him
During his formulive years
Now he's out of control. Just like his father. A bum
Then another child arrives
It's a little girl, and her name is Dorean
She's accompanied by a woman with both her
And the little boy's adoption papers
According to the papers, I am their mother
Dorean was born in 1971, and she is half-black. Mulatto
She looks like a little peanut. A little brown, roasted peanut
And now I know who the Father was! It was Lee
That good-looking, black guy
Who lived downtown on the other side of the tracks
I kind of remember sleeping with him
But I was on a couple of Quaaludes at the time
I discovered I was pregnant about a month later
When I was visiting my Nana
I didn't know who the father was, but when my Dad demanded to be told
It was bad enough that I was pregnant and seventeen
But it would be far worse to say,
"It could've been one of three people, Dad"
That he couldn't have handled
So I guess I didn't have that abortion we (?) flew to DC for
I had the baby. I was given a second chance.
Then I start to think
Well, there goes my career, and Brad is sure to leave me now
I don't have his number so I call my friend Steve
Who's supposed to be doing a video.
And he tells me that the MTV people waited and waited
But then they finally went away mad
And I tried to explain to him that I couldn't leave my babies
Not now. Not again
And I'm calling from a gas-station in West Virginia
Where my husband waits for me
Inside his broken-down old Chevy pickup
This is my new life
Now I'm a hick housewife from West Virginia
With an unemployed husband and two screaming kids
I say goodbye to being a movie star
And feed little Dorean with a tin
pan filled with cookies and crackers.
And think to myself
Keebler makes a good cracker