Dour Debbie Downer
Dour Debbie Downer with a daily dose of doom
She complains about her father with a sense of gloom
He was a bully, he wishes I was dead she said.
Her mother was worse; she is glad that she is dead.
Dour Debbie Downer with a daily dose of anything not warm.
She hopes none of her family gets in touch in spirit form.
My sister was awful, I wish I had never let her back into my life.
The conversation always comes back to depression and strife.
Dour Debbie Downer is right now calling me on the phone.
Once again, I ignore it, hoping she will think I am not home.
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