I loved a girl once, she had long dark hair.
She could draw, I watched her draw wrinkled faces.
She kept her mattress on the ground, her tongue in the air,
And with the mattress, and the tongue, we went to new places.
It was weird, which I liked, romance was boring.
She'd chew on my jaw and I'd spit in her eye.
No request for sensation was worth ignoring,
We were all *** for tat, we were high for high.
Then she left, as she would, and I felt fine.
I mean, I felt like ****, but I kept this in mind:
I still have those days, and those days are mine,
And I have other dark haired girls to find.
       Now that she's gone, my drink's all that's near,
       But that's okay too, I can spit in my beer.