Christmas Crime (Or That Time My Old Man Straight Murdered My Mom Over Some Bullshit)

Twas a dark and sad December
When my mother was dismembered
By our father, for some unkind words she said
It was snowing, I remember
Mistletoe and chimney embers
And the hollow eyes from mommy’s severed head

He lit his pipe after a while
And laid his back upon the tiles
Of our bathroom with a belt around his arm
Then he nodded off and smiled
And we gathered single file
To watch as daddy dearest bought the farm

The police gave us some chocolates
Which melted in our pockets
And they shipped us off to live in Aberdeen
Now when I sleep I cannot block it
Or rip those memories from my sockets
It’s syringes and it’s corpses when I dream

Shit’s wild, right?

So when folks be like “yo, Jermaine, I’m tweaking”
“Yo Jermaine,
Can yah spare some of your Xanax?”
My response is always gonna be something along the lines of…
“You broke ass fool, don’t you know my daddy chopped my mama’s head off when I was a little kid??
You think it’s easy to relax after something like that happens?
News flash- it ain’t. So unless you paying me 4x the street value for them pills- step off before I take offense.”

Miss you dad…
Every day,
Every single day…