I restored your mother's faith in men whilst boring you to death Left nothing more than the circle of stubble rash around your chest My life was saved by a packet of nineteen cigarettes Carried in my left breast pocket, for a closest friend A sleeping bag on the floor twists hips like buffalo horns They said, "that boy's too lazy", you were clearly forewarned A jealous ex silenced the room (Shhhhh) He said that you were a whore; "Do you kiss your mummy's lips with that mouth?".
Ooooh, ahhhh
She imagined everything I said in falsetto; The only way to justify my childish despair I spent my last six fifty in a public phone box, (Graffited genitalia from the ceiling to the floor) Play reckless, rapid like a fruit machine. I see gargoyles in the floral of the duvet cover, You see melodrama move from one sentence to the other. Many years practice of speaking in hushed tones