Fire-eater

fire-eater@riseup.net is a recovering writer/student/activist living in Portland, OR.
He can be found on his day off muttering to his ducks anti-civilizational Blake and Milton passages in his garden and greenhouse.

Dec 1, 2009 9:33pm

Wish I’d recall the time and place
Where I connect the phone to your pretty face
Baby, you put somethin’ in my drink.

I want you here, and I want you now
Let’s fool around, can you show me how?
Baby, you make it all better I believe.

Phonograph wound up, got my dancin’ down
But you never showed, and it made me frown
It don’t matter anyway, I can’t lead.

I picked your brains and I brushed your hair,
What else have you got stashed in there?
What’s hidden with everythin’ else that’s up your sleeve?

Now I’m reminded of the times
You hung up the phone, made me waste my dimes,
I’ll just call tomorrow, when you’re free.

When I told you what I found
You rolled your eyes and you turned around
You shut the door, so I took my leave.

If I coulda traced the line that’s there
Between the lies and your far-off stare
Baby, there’s all this ‘love’ and I can’t think.

So crank up the Ford, n’ box up my books,
Have a last exchange of some nasty looks,
Don’t forget my pen, that’s something I can’t leave.

But if I forget and you’re on the town with it,
Use my card to buy a drink and drown in it,
Sign my name, tell him it’s from me.