|
Dry heave doubt |
|
From a little dragon's mouth |
|
Split lip and split tongue |
|
Finally, cross eyed |
|
She stands next to the cigarrette machine |
|
"This device has got it made," she thinks. |
|
It has a cast iron stomach |
|
But a candle for a heart |
|
Odd the way the very stuff falls out |
|
Hard the way it makes you doubt |
|
This thing leaps up and complains, full of bile |
|
Not even starcrossed, just unlucky |
|
Odd how the very stuff falls out |
|
Hard the way it makes you smile |
|
This thing leaps up and complains |
|
Not even starcrossed, just unlucky |
