I restored your mother's faith in men whilst boring you to death
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Left nothing more than the circle of stubble rash around your chest
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My life was saved by a packet of nineteen cigarettes
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Carried in my left breast pocket for a closest friend
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A sleeping bag on the floor, two slips like buffalo horns
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They said that boy's too lazy, you were clearly forewarned
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A jealous ex silenced the room, he said that you were a whore
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Do you kiss your mummy's lips with that mouth?
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She imagined everything I said in falsetto
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The only way to justify my childish despair
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I spent my last six fifty in a public phone box
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Graffited genitalia from the ceiling to floor
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Play the reckless, rapid like a fruit machine
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I see gargoyles in the floral of the duvet cover
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You see melodrama move from one sentence to the other
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And many years practice of speaking in hushed tones
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Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #1
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| Los Campesinos! |
