The Trail From My Cigarette Leads Away
And Crossbreeds Through Your Hands
And Laced Hairstrands So Pillows Won't Forget
But It Hits That Dick You Were Talking To
When You Do A Chaste Hair Flick
With Sweated Fingers Edging Waistbands
Till Running Hands Leave You Greasy By Morning
And Please Say That Long Shower You Took
Was So There's No Braced Goodbye At The Door
And You Sit Like A Woman Of The Wastelands
Wishing To Be Heartbroke On That Bathroom Floor
Just So You Could Wash Out The Smell Of Smoke
CK
No comments:
Post a Comment