Won't you undo my shoes?
My feet are killing me so.
I have dragged my shod feet across
the hall, to watch Depeche Mode.
That insanely blue and green-sweet cuckoo
pops its head out of its shiny sham home
to tell us it is eight, and Fuck you, fuck YOU 8
times over and shuts itself up again, back home.
It is Strange Love that they are playing
and I do agree that one gives in to sin
to make life liveable. Otherwise dreary.
Does this mean that we are dining in?
Our plates messy and my eyes glued to VH1,
I have no clue what you are thinking about.
You still haven't helped me take my shoes off.
Love I will have to do without.
- ► 2012 (9)
- ▼ 2009 (28)