Sage Francis
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Come Come Now

Sage Francis


Let me rub my back against the notches on your bedpost/
To scratch these afterthoughts off my flesh and shed ghosts/
My head's close to your closet door. I've got the glass to my ear/
My nose is in your business...I smell something fishy here.

I hear bones rattling. Poems battling for space and time/
Phones that'll ring...when I make judgement calls with pick-up lines/
Sexual hang-ups leave me waiting nude and while alone/
It gets aggrivating masturbating to a dial tone.

I'm the home to run-away trains of thought/
My one track mind is a collision inter-course. where victim's cross/
Bedroom eyes. Uncross their legs exposing inner thighs/
I disrobe and show my most convincing disguise.

I've lived so many lives...each death has left my face scarred/
Hid so many lies...under my breath that I can't face God/
Dig into my mind...deep enough you'll find a grave yard/
I get nervous bodies will resurface every time it rains hard.

"Don't cry, girl." Let me outline your short comings/
While my world is full of them and they're all in the long running.
It's all fun and games. It's all done in vane. It's all a fucking shame/
I ain't the one...but I'm the one to complain.

I'm the one to come home. Compare. Contrast. Come fast/
Make love to the present...fuck the past/
Make love to the present...fuck the past. Nothing lasts/
Don't you dare worry about the morning aftermath.

Taking an acid bath...pissing on the shower curtain/
The gal just laughs...and starts dissing my towel turban/
I had to ask...if she knew how to listen. Now I'm certain/
Now my task...is just to get up in her like I was a surgeon.

I'm a virgin who makes exceptions at sunset/
My dirty skin gets cleansed by the summer sweat/
"Self, have some respect! i don't need you new and clean/
But I don't want the procedure routine!"

A screw machine...with a few bolts loose. Robot response touch tone/
hair trigger, happy-go-lucky emotion monger wants a love poem/
Run home. Dip into your closet and jump bones/
Your secret admirer's stuck...higher up...and he's unknown.

Looking down on you. Can you bare the burden? My ears are hurting/
I found a few gears are turning/
With squeaky wheels. they get the grease 'cause its a damn nuisance/
Understand the blueprints for our mechanical movements.

It never ran smooth since...we abused the Earth/
Grabbed a hand full of pubics....and removed the turf/
Refused its worth. We lose our shirts. She assumed the worst/
And needed proof of birth? I'm leaving this universe.

It seems doomed and cursed. if you come first then come fast/
Compare. Contrast. Come here. Come back/
Complain. Constrain. Constantly ask/
Complicated questions. Contain scientific answers in your flask...

Come to terms with coming last.
Make love to the present. Fuck the past.
Make love to the present...fuck the past. Nothing lasts.
Don't you dare worry about the morning aftermath

Compositores: Paul F Landry (Sage Francis), Gruvis Malt
ECAD: Obra #2164630

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