Hey you , dragging the halo
How about a holiday in the islands of grief?
Tongue is the word I wish to have with you.
Your eyes are so blue they leak.
Your legs are longer than a prisoner's last night on death row.
I'm filthier than a coal miner's bathtub,
and nastier than the breath of Charles Bukowski.
You're a dirty little windsheild
I'm standing behind you on the subway,
hard as calculus, my breath be sticking on your neck like graffiti.
I'm standing opposite to you in the bar,
waiting for you to uncross your boundaries.
I want to rip off your logic,
and make passionate sense to you.
I want to ride in the swing of your lips.
My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks,
blazing your limbs into parts of speech.
But with me for a lover, you won't need catastrophes,
What attracted me in the first place will ultimately make me resent you.
I'll start telling you lies,
and my lies will sparkle,
become the bad stars you chart your life by.
I'll stare at other women so blatantly,
you will hear my eyes peeling.
Because sex with you is like Great Britain:
Cold, groggy and a little uptight.
Your bed is a big, soft calculator,
where my problems multiply.
Your brain is a garage,
I park my bullshit in, for free.
You are not really my new girlfriend,
Just another flop sequel of the first one,
who was based on the true story of my mother.
You are so ugly I forgot how to spell.
You're the 'this' we need to put an end to,
The more you apologize, the less I forgive you.
So how about it?
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