I restored your mother's faith in men Whilst boring you to death Left nothing more than the circle of stubble rash around your chest My life was saved by a packet of nineteen cigarettes Carried in my left breast pocket, for a closest friend A sleeping bag on the floor, two slips like buffalo horns They said, "that boy's too lazy, you were clearly forewarned" A jealous ex silenced the room (Shhhhh) He said that you were a whore Do you kiss your mummy's lips with that mouth?
Ooooh, ahhhh
She imagined everything I said in falsetto The only way to justify my childish despair I spent my last six fifty in a public phone box Graffited genitalia from the ceiling to floor Play the reckless, rapid like a fruit machine I see gargoyles in the floral of the duvet cover You see melodrama move from one sentence to the other And many years practice of speaking in hushed tones