| My sex | |
| Waits for me | |
| Like a mongrel waits | |
| Downwind on a tight rope leash | |
| My sex | |
| Is a fragile acrobat | |
| Sometimes I'm a Novocaine shot | |
| Sometimes I'm an automat | |
| My sex | |
| Is often solo | |
| Sometimes it short circuits then | |
| Sometimes it's a golden glow | |
| My sex | |
| Is invested in | |
| Suburban photographs | |
| Skyscraper shadows on a car crash overpass | |
| My sex | |
| Is savage, tender | |
| It wears no future faces | |
| Owns just random gender | |
| My sex | |
| Has a wanting wardrobe | |
| I still explore | |
| Of all the bodies I knew and those I want to know | |
| My sex | |
| Is a spark of electro flesh | |
| Leased from the tick of time | |
| And geared for synchromesh | |
| My sex | |
| Is an image lost in faded films | |
| A neon outline | |
| On a high-rise overspill | |
| My sex | |
| My sex | |
| My sex | |
| ... |
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