A trick question on my lips,
give me five bucks and I’ll take the loss.
Thirty’ll get the tail to bite the head.
So when I lie I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense;
it’s not for her anyway.
Tits got more per gurney sway!

She’s old. I know.
One hundred and twenty.
Ninety-seven.
And I am imposing, never played a record.
That’s a lie, I played “My Ding-a-ling,”
I played happy meal prizes.
I’ve folded around dogs.

Her secret message scared me.
I’m a scaredy-cat.
I get scared.
I’m feeling very well scared right now.
I’m too shallow for her dives.

But I want to tie her hair to mine,
to make a rainbow with our vapour.
To swing her son and read the paper.
Eins twine! I’m no genius,
only yellow-turn-brown.

Fly my kite!
Bake my pie!
Turn me ’round and
tell me what not!

I not
that
man,
man.