I’ve got this heart-ache rivaled head-pound,
what with its spins ‘n belly swaps.
but in this oppressive din,
there’s that chant,
again and again:
“you should have,
you should have,
you should have.”
‘n in this sweeping crowd,
lined with bone-gnaw teeth,
you’re flittin’ around in pigtails.
I’m bettin’ from your upbringin’,
you’re more Country Music,
but from the way you’re movin’,
you’ve got aero-punk in your soul.
those quick quiet eyes,
flittin’ with expression that don’t sit on your face.
‘n god,
god,
do I need to work out the courage
to ask you to dinner.
