Friday, November 10, 2006


The skeleton is out of the closet, dancing his bony feet all over my red alcohol soaked body
All I can do is stare at that number written on a little piece of paper hanging off my night table
I probably won't call it
Move over bones I gotta get up
Pink bicycles are for little girls and midget clowns
If the rides too short circle the clock a few times and get your monies worth
I don't have a dime old man so start begging for quarters
You sit under that awning with your coffee cup in your hand to keep you dry and warm
But if this rain picks up like its supposed to your gonna have to find some new shelter scruffs
The rain is a slanted rain and it will do what it needs to ruin your night
I'd take you in but there's a very pale man who lives in my closet
And I think he's keeping the neighbors awake
I wish I gave her my number instead
I would like to hear a sweet new voice tonight
So don't call me names, not tonight anyway
I'm not feeling it
The purple and blues got me running circles in my room tonight
I'm not calling
There's too much on the line with this girl I just met
I'd rather leave it at that
one good conversation
who knows what it would all mean twelve fights and three weeks later
Bones, get up, I gotta get to work
and stop drinking all my wine, your depleting the stock and its gonna be a cold winter
I'm settled in with everything I need so walk away
Anyway goodnight bones, Ill make you something to eat in the morning
I won't be hungry anyway

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