I'm sorry I threw up On your Louis Vuitton sneakers In the back of your chauffeured BMW Driving through the crumbling streets Of Mexico City On the way back To your immaculate home. Something was not sitting well In my stomach.
You cannot see it, my love But I am growing. And soon I will be So great, So sprawling That I may very well collapse Under my own weight. And you, my dear, Will not be strong enough To hold me.