What better way to recycle your miscarriage than using it as a designer handbag?
Life ain’t easy on the upper west side
Art openings, limos, wine and cheese, bitch please
My socialite girlfriend is constantly bitching for cash
But I’d spend it all for that gorgeous pink gash
She only cares about fashion trends but when I knocked her up
She feared her posh existence would end
Seven months pregnant, she pummeled her womb
With Apple-tini’s and blow till our baby went boom.
Our private doctor said it was prenatal child abuse
So I showed him my steel, since his services were no longer of use
God, she loved our dead kin’s supple skin, and damn she needed a new purse
So she flayed off its skin, let the sewing begin; I guess I can cancel that hearse.
Infant leather made one hell of a bag
And soon my bitch’s purse was in high demand.
Cityscapes full of cosmetic surgery-ruined whores
Were now flaunting my child’s remnants down the runway floors
Bitches spending all their cash on dead infant handbags
Every four months my girlfriend was self-aborting our lineage
Pumping herself with fertility drugs and snow had really begun to take its toll
The day I found her dead, an idea popped into my head:
Human leather high heels, the most luscious pairs
For the highest bidding NYC cunt millionaires
from Plump Up The Volume,
released April 14, 2015
Lyrics by ED
Guest Vocals by Joe Peck (ex-Goratory)