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At night your grandmother dies on a bed of chamomile
And the Virgin Mary stuck her head out
from the wall it scared you
So you cried by floral bedside
until the telephone rang in the next room
It was six-six-six from a soldier
who was hysterical on a toilet seat
And you could tell he was good looking
just by the way that he would speak
And you both sob like little cherries
being crushed between my fingers
I drop the pits on tile floors
and they echo like a tongueless mouth
Oh, I tried to speak
I swear to God
I wish I were your stray dog
Eating scraps of meat you gave me
because you saw my ribs and I was dirty
Eating scraps of meat you gave me
because you saw my ribs and I was dirty
Oh, I wish I were your stray dog
roaming aimlessly around the city