Mother bear in a waterfall With bigger thoughts than blonde harlots Eating porridge, Fallen starlets with outer space in their hair.
Just you wait; I'll be the happiest little sonofabitch You've ever seen.
Some small consolation, if any. That weekend we spent with our Necks perpendicular to our spines, Of course I still remember the films we watched.
I condition my hair with split infinitives And live off the poisoned dew that settles Every morning in my closet.
Turn your little black dress inside-out, I've got this magic idea for a recipe But we're going to need some ants And that crazy Harryhausen dream you've got up in your attic.
Ten or twelve little blond kids up On the cliff, each ten or twelve years old And dancing with a flame-Buddha called "Home".
Let's spend this week underwater, I'd much rather give up my weight and my due If it ensured me any small hour With you. Oh, god how I love you anymore.
I may have told you this a while ago, But did you know the first Pledge of Allegiance Put us some good height above God?
Sometimes I find the sugar in my gas tank Makes for a rough start in the morning, Not that I particularly want to go anywhere, But it's what I've thought that counts.
He's a bit upset that I skipped movie last night: But I can't play horizontal baseball With my violent, violent imaginary friend.
The Rubik's cube beats deep in my chest Without a hand to cheat and rearrange the stickers. Claude enunciates something queer into my ear And turns off the lamp with a snap.