Tongue in cheek till a hole burns out her mouth,
And fingers crossed like the promise of cub scouts,
And we know that the picture in her heart shaped locket,
Is far from an inanimate object.
She’s as dark as the blood pulsing under her skin,
Still afraid of the boogey man under her bed,
And we know that the ashes in the urn was a person,
And we never should have burned him.
Shake it, shake it like you bouts to get paid,
Boom slaggaboom, like you gots a peg leg.
I’m game, you’re game; you’re the main attraction,
And the way you fit your jeans it makes me ready for action.
window
widow
white
under
tongue
subtraction
still
sleeves
scouts
rusted
rolled
stand
roses
reflection
reaction
purse
pulsing
crossed
burns
shake
decimal
shaped
object
promise
ready
burned
below
distance
cornering
caught
picture
dance
cross
chance
person
action
closes
cheek
attraction
another
blood
break
doing
bouts
disappears
knows
dating
fingers
fraction
ashes
gotta
carton
hearse
heart
inanimate
jeans
people
coffin
chain
locket
makes
mouth
waiting
should
music
afraid
never
pictures
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