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Caressing bent up to the jug again |
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With sheaths and pills |
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Invading all those stills |
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In a hovel of a bed |
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I will scream in vain |
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Oh please miss Lane |
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Leave me with some pain |
|
Went walking through this city's neon lights |
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In fear of disguising my warping seathing |
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Pressure lines and graceless heirs |
|
Intangible of price |
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Trying so hard to find what? What was right |
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I came upon your room it stuck into my head |
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We leapt into the bed degrading even lice |
|
You took delight in taking down |
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All my shielded pride |
|
Until exposed became my darker side |
|
Puckering up and down some avenue of sin |
|
Too cheap to ride they're worth a try |
|
If only for the old times cold times |
|
Don't go waving your pretentious love |
|
He's soliciting on his tan brown brogues |
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Girating through some lonesome devils row |
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Pinpointing well meaning upper class prey |
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Of walking money checks posessing holes |
|
He often sleekly offers his services |
|
Exploitation of his finer years |
|
Work with loosely woven fabrics |
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Of lonely office clerks |
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Any lay suffices his dollar green eye |
