you’ll have to forgive me a little assumin’
but you’re talkin’ like you want to wash some of the dirt from me.
it’s been a long time since showers were hands ‘n lips ‘n skin,
been dust ‘n sweat swirlin’ down that drain,
for a long, long time.
nothin’ tastes quite like a cheap cigar,
embers burnin’ at the tip of your nose,
as you’re waitin’ for the juices to ooze out of that burger,
–“don’t flip that shit early
–all the juice’ll run right out,
–the burger’ll be dry ‘n flacid.
–you gotta wait, only one chance.”
—-he said to me,
—-before he went home and wrapped his arms around his love,
—-and two men knew this was the last,
—-he went to prison in the mornin’.
–“that’s the only secret, wait.”
suckin’ fire, waitin’ on fire,
don’t taste like nothin’ else.
there’s the blood from popped pimples,
dull or missed-mark razors,
‘n then there’s the hand stuck guilt of Lady Macbeth,
rationality don’t have much to say.
beer ‘n a shower,
after a long day’s work,
sings like angels,
if you believe in that.
I don’t, but I do.
so it’s a nice gesture ‘n all,
but some things you just gotta do alone.
