Wait for your train in my car by the station On the wheel, my hands are burning from the cold What do you dream as you doze against the window And will you tell the dream when you come home? Were ill at ease in the house of lesser than And in breakfast, we get by on charm alone The sun beats down on immaculate beige carpets And the plank of spoons bounce off the offwhite wall I flipped through the music that you left All the old cassettes that lean against the wall I ate all the peaches off the shelf And I rearranged the cans into a poem Vicious mobs of candyravers stalk the night And methadonians sleep right where they stand A weeping tranny is craddling a steak knife And youre happily slugging Rob Roys with your man I fold all the sweaters in the drawer And I smelled your smell and I held one to my nose Lay awake to the drizzle on window As the swan neck of the fan sweeps back and forth Na na na na na na na na na
craddling, candyravers, methadonians, slugging, roys