seven days and sixteen hours / be seven more until we all pull through / mud baths and champagne showers / we’ve got to blame someone, so let’s blame you / the Second Coming can wait a bit longer / until we get our socks and shoes on / i’ll tell you just like i told her / don’t know the words, don’t sing along.
if you loved me you’d fail algebra / it’s the only right thing to do / if you loved me you’d fail algebra / you say you don’t, but i know that you do / count the pills i took this morning / you couldn’t count them on two hands / count the pills I took this morning / c’mere sonny, let me kiss you like a man.
angel hair
angel hair and razor blades / lubricant and marmalade / queen of the everglades wakes up with bloody fingers / too much fluid in my lungs / thin lips and awkward tongues / i heard you sing the song you sung before you licked his eyelids.
once i threw up on your dog / he didn’t seem to mind at all / you found your old heart at the mall right next to orange julius/ five excuses in five ways / five break-ups in four days / strategic rips and ketchup stains adorn your borrowed stockings.
i can’t hold hands with myself, but not for lack of trying
black market bingo
it’s lemon time, mister subterfuge.
lavaliering
check my amniotic fluids / give those rocks back to the druids / leave your press-ons on the nightstand / white as the unicorn on your van / all signs point to Paxil / skinny wrists brace swollen hands / dry fuck the axel / drive-train protection plan.
miss congeniality (the life and times of S. Wilsley)
through your breast plate, past your ribcage, my ventricle’s right where it’s supposed to be / put that box spring beneath you mattress, you’re my vote for miss congeniality / no flashbulbs, no corn dogs, no tourists, no sympathy / just plaintiffs, white knuckles, wet laundry and botched epesiotomies.
through the stoplight, sunny side up, insurance fraud ain’t what it used to be / fish you crown out of the beer-piss, try in vain to feign divinity / no recon, no drop zone, no red flags to tell us where we’re supposed to be / just cupcakes with no icing, compliments of miss congeniality.
you’re in heaven i paid for your ride.
not ever comet is lucky enough to have a name…
i resent the fact that her cigarettes are longer than mine and even though all the insurance claims in the world won’t save you now you still fail to realize not every comet is lucky enough to have a name.
i also resent the fact that the lightly over, over abscess means less than the cost of a second-hand flare gun, too bogged down in building a better anomaly than saving your split-finger fast-track for the jacksons and the last remaining romanovs.
i resent the fact that if resolution was as easy as revolution we’d all be spinning until we vomited up a techni-color map suitable for the navigation of the seventeen dead pilots homes while waiting to formulate the last steaming hypotenuse suitable for comfort and compliant silverware, the kind that’s too pretty to hold food.
out with gout ’88
like I said before / get down / learn semaphore / hem your wedding gown
my god, my dog’s on fire / my dog, my god’s on fire.
three cuts
i can’t pronounce the medication they put me on but I can pronounce words like meringue and betrayal, that’s “b” with an “e”, “tray” with an “a”, and “yul” with an “ul”, so if you want to be the fancy free springer spaniel sparrow you fancy yourself, by all means, proceed. Make sure to remember that when you take wing, you’ll be as vulnerable as i was, so passing potshots from random nare-do-wells will be more likely to hit their mark and when you fail to dodge that fatal pass and the kiss of lust’s hot lead sends you spiraling ground-ward, flailing and struggling to ward off the inevitable death throes, remember before you meet the ground to ask yourself, was it worth it. look fondly upon me as you bury your chapped, tear-stained face into your flannel pillow because as you told me so many times before you preferred handsome men, but for me you’d make an exception, you told me again you prefer handsome men, but for me you’d make an exception.
toothbrush factory
near the toothbrush factory / you ran your go-cart over me / and my pekinese
I’ll be wide awake ‘til dawn / huffing paint and watching tron / on your front lawn.
near the toothbrush factory / you ran your go-cart over me / look at my scraped knee
I’ll be wide awake ‘til dawn huffing’ paint and watching tron / feel free to sing along.
i haven’t seen you since the teakettle explosion.
where peacocks go to fuck
state your intent / curtain call for kismet / put you on a southbound train to maine
spanish intuition / excuse the imposition / without you i couldn’t use the carpool lane
dear lord and taylor / forgot my inhaler / kool aide pumps through arteries and veins
smack back the action / happiness in traction / four on the floor, angelic whore can cure the lame
memorize the minefields / high sign in high heels / ripe nectarines and rupture spleens / more of the same
cobalt to radon / quill pen to crayon / hard wind and rain help to delay the astral plane
heard you said you said so/ free tempest bledsoe/ rum garden grows/ torn easter clothes/ more of the same
call social service / light makes me nervous / pygmalion / your stockings run like prefontaine.
The Halls of Catatonia
tickets to the ice capades, flowers that you bought / save that stuff for Ramadan, forget everything i've tought / knife goes in, guts come out, effort's all for naught / you know you stole those cotton balls, and i hope that you get caught / take it back, take it back, not true, not true / ambulence , ambulence, red, blue, red, blue
American Shotgun Enthusiast
let's hear it for the kids / you want to know what my problem is? / i'm gonna tell you what it is / after this sloe* gin fizz / could you repeat the question please? / STP and STD's / je suis tres american / another morning brings another nightmare's end. i feel awrite / dark beats up the light / i feel awrite / this seems to happen every night.
