| Song | Morning After Pill |
| Artist | Meanwhile, Back in Communist Russia |
| Album | Indian Ink |
| I thought of the poem with the line about the smoke being a huge-yellow cat curling around the house. | |
| A clownish figure, measuring out his life in coffee-spoons. | |
| He said the idea of bondage made him laugh ; conjured up the image of some middle-aged couple thinking they were being a bit risque in trying to spice up their lagging sex-lives with an array of contrived and cliched devices. | |
| However with his mothers apron-strings to hand, I can't imaging him saying no. | |
| You say you don't feel fully fledged, and then crawl into your mothers womb (him ?). | |
| You're too scared to agree or disagree or even think about what you want. | |
| You say you're scared of feeling trapped, and then lock yourself in your mother's house. | |
| It started in tangled duvet covered in pictures of chubby infants, mixed drinks and the sticky-sweet taste of vomit clinging to my teeth - scene two was a damp smelly room : Marilyn, manga and bondage covered the cracks in the paintwork ; day upon day cocooned in a sheet sneared with sweat and make-up. | |
| Three month later trudging through daffodils and dogshit he talked facetiously about having gone full circle. | |
| He dragged symbolism out of football matches and nausea. We looked drugged and battered. | |
| I felt him force the roles around, making me nurse him as though the emotional betrayal(?) was some-thing I'd done to him. | |
| He caught the four-sixteen back home, leaving me standing on the platform with his sweat on my skin and cum in my hair. | |
| " Please keep in touch !… ". I couldn't see the point. |
| I thought of the poem with the line about the smoke being a hugeyellow cat curling around the house. | |
| A clownish figure, measuring out his life in coffeespoons. | |
| He said the idea of bondage made him laugh nbsp conjured up the image of some middleaged couple thinking they were being a bit risque in trying to spice up their lagging sexlives with an array of contrived and cliched devices. | |
| However with his mothers apronstrings to hand, I can' t imaging him saying no. | |
| You say you don' t feel fully fledged, and then crawl into your mothers womb him nbsp?. | |
| You' re too scared to agree or disagree or even think about what you want. | |
| You say you' re scared of feeling trapped, and then lock yourself in your mother' s house. | |
| It started in tangled duvet covered in pictures of chubby infants, mixed drinks and the stickysweet taste of vomit clinging to my teeth scene two was a damp smelly room nbsp: Marilyn, manga and bondage covered the cracks in the paintwork nbsp day upon day cocooned in a sheet sneared with sweat and makeup. | |
| Three month later trudging through daffodils and dogshit he talked facetiously about having gone full circle. | |
| He dragged symbolism out of football matches and nausea. We looked drugged and battered. | |
| I felt him force the roles around, making me nurse him as though the emotional betrayal? was something I' d done to him. | |
| He caught the foursixteen back home, leaving me standing on the platform with his sweat on my skin and cum in my hair. | |
| " Please keep in touch nbsp! ". I couldn' t see the point. |