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Legless, with the powerder puff you've got light, still cannot read and the mattress is two bored-out eyes supposed to be a lightening bolt but as I lie in bed it's been middle class middle thoughts, middle as C tantric forms of intercourse no divorce, drunk as a horse and the waitress is the only one who can speak and say what she means as I lie awake it's been Camelot I can a lot, it's kennel and key as she's waiting stroking my hair choking places stroking my tie princes with the dollar eyes morning fries and light-up TV and advances in the sweater vest picking homes, picking out cheese as i lie to them second wallabee second son what happened to me