Stockings To Suit

Manners to endure
Sculptures still sore
Thinking of someone
As the imagination it runs away
Grateful I begin to play
Euphoric in schemes
Scattered through dreams
Prophetic she seems
But I know in the end
You’ll come crawling back
Oh how I have to laugh
Profound in her wake
Coked up on dates
There’s she goes again
As she’s scratching out the eyes
Of the ones in the suits
Black painted nails with stockings to suit
And she’s wiping up the thread
Talking on the dead
And she’s playing with their name
Startling the main (?)
Scourging the frames
So I went along with her
What else could I do?
What else could I do?
What else could I do?
Elections of ideas
Tantalize my ears
And saaaaay
And they say
Profound in her wake
Coked up on dates
There’s she goes again
With stockings to suit
What else could I do?
With stockings to suit
What else could I do?
And with stockings to suit