Sunday, January 31, 2010

cat's cradle

oh, god, deliver me
from my enemies
these women in green
winter coats
working for the tip
don't paint your lips
and don't bite; they're baiting you
and don't cry, 'cause they want you to.

mama, i'm sleeping it off
warmth then from white lines and scotch
and i hate being cross
but you sure hold your booze.

please don't drop bombs on me
i beg of thee
just leave me in peace
i have cold and quiet eyes
oh, quiet eyes
oh, my god.
don't suck your gut so tight
and don't cut your hair so nice.

mama, i'm sleeping it off
warmth then from white lines and scotch
i hate being cross but you should hold your booze.

don't bite, i'm begging you
don't leave when i curse at you.

but you really should know
by now,
how to hold your booze

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