He was walking ‘round while whistling the tune
Of all the troubles in his head baptized in advertisements
From the first time that I saw him live at least (and) from the way he sounded
It’s not what I hoped and not what I expected
Blame the doctor!
Blame the
Letters to each other written on the sides of envelopes
Lips like a wax seal, sex like a statue in the park
Cheeks as warm and as soft as a shot of rye
As dark as the sun in a dead deer’s eye
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