Where in the world did you go to, my shoulder padded lady
You were my Sunday evening treat, at nine years old and acting shady.
I had no idea what was going on, what all these feeling were
As you quizzed with permed locks flowing, pearled earring’s and mink fur.
I’m not so sure about the mink, my older self hopes not,
I feel that might ruin what we had and now I wouldn't find you quite so hot.
I read that you’re happily married, 4 babies and a successful career
It hurts my dignity but I don’t care, I’m jealous it would appear.
I hate Frank fucking McNamara and his stupid piano hands
I wanted to play the drums; chicks dig musicians playing shitty rock in high school bands.
But I never bothered learning so that’s a moot point really and “hate” I guess is a strong word
But tears were shed when news came and you had married was what I’d heard
We could have been the best, the greatest couple of the day,
I could have been your Miley, sneaking out with Biddy in the hay
Or Derek Davis, greedily eating up Thelma with his leers
His big fat belly crushing her must have brought grown men to tears.
But not me, no my love held strong for you back in 1989
No other girl would stir my eyes away from you, my love divine.
And now that you’re a lawyer, all grown up and working hard for the defence
Maybe you could hear my case, about how my love is still true and so intense
Theresa Lowe you fucking whore why did you wreck my life
Nothing since has filled the hole since you filled my world with strife,
When you walked out on me, there was no runner up prize; it was all or nothing with you
And I got nothing, just confusion in my 9 year old body and I didn't know what to do.
So all I've known since, is self-harm, magic mushrooms and chronic masturbation
And it’s all your fault, you were my one true love, my hope, guide and inspiration
I don’t know if I hate you now but if you decided to leave Frank or if somehow he died
On a fish finger I made him one day in the RTE canteen that I very badly fried.
Yes I’d have to say I’d definitely give you another chance
One more time to love me and in the evening moonlight dance.
We could feast upon each other like two lovers on death row
And know in our hearts how much thanks we'd give to that Sunday evening show
But if again you'd leave me like in nineteen ninety three
I’d hunt you down and cut your head off with an awful wild-eyed glee.
You see, my dear, this isn't a poem about love, loss and regret
Let’s face the facts Theresa it’s a fucking letter filled with threat
You see you've got such a lovely life, with the hubby and the kids
But Franks a fucking gimp and I'm sure that he forbids
All your finest pleasures and the things you think about in your dreams
Like fairy cakes and anal sex that you fill with lustful screams.
So stop the clock and hold the news, Glenroe can fucking wait
I’m sure this is a shock but really it’s just fate
So come along, please get in touch, I’m banned if you recall
The restraining order says 50 feet after that incident at the ball.
But you hair smelled so good, I just had to sniff, I didn't expect to blow my beans
All over your dress, and make a mess with my dick hanging out of my jeans.
So anyway my dear, we must catch up and chat
Please wear your finest shoulder pads, permed hairdo and a hat.
And let’s forget about the things that you might find offensive
Like my previous bad behavior and my suit that’s inexpensive
You’ll never think about the kids and I’m sure Frank will rebuild
I think he really loved Gay Byrne, with his big gay sweaty head
And I know you’ll never think of him, when you’re lying in our bed.
Cause as you know I’m not a man to settle for second place
And your head looks so much better when its attached to the rest of your face.
So where in the world have you gone to, my shoulder padded queen?
Lets make this happen, it’s your call, so please, please don’t be mean.
