Halfway Through the Week

Baked-bean eyes in a head of skin
Rumours fly as to where he's been
Rolling over like a dying whale
He blows his load like a sudden gale

He moves so well that you hope he stays
But he leaves you empty as the darkness plays
A game of shadows on your sleeping face
Outside the snow is falling all around his place

Exhausting trials of endless speculation
Conjures up a new line of permutations
Cancerous musings help complete the picture
I'll die from thinking, surely not from smoking
To fill my lungs would be a stricture
But my mind has no limits, I wish I was joking

He's elegant in a stupid kind of way
Never speaks, he has nothing to say
Calls you 'kid' on Monday
Is your lover by Tuesday
Bangs another on Wednesday
And he's only halfway through the week

Where does that
Where does that leave
Where does that leave you?