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On the Vermont Transit Bus |
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I leaned my arm into a little chink of sun, |
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Going somewhere older than I was, |
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Strapped into something tight, keeping me small. |
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I dug into you like rock climbing; |
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Too scared of coming down, |
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Too scared of going up, |
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Too scared of rockface. |
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I should've split my sides or spilled my guts or hit you or something, |
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But I was good, and your father's little pancakes |
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So round and perfect and me sitting up too straight, |
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Laughing in wrong places, kissing you, |
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Kissing up, kissing too soon. |
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When the cock crows |
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When the morning comes where will I go? |
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When the cock crows |
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When the love is gone where will I go? |
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And when you got me pregnant I stopped the party and |
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I stopped the typewriter and I stopped your dumb ball game in the red barn and I |
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Stopped your father and bled instead. |
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And I felt the lie - something sticky on the inside, |
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A bitter wind in my throat, |
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Stopping me wanting, |
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In my stomach, in my head and you said |
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Sugar sugar, you couldn't come come |
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Sugar sugar, without your mother |
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Sugar sugar, you couldn't taste it |
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Sugar sugar, in my throat. |
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When the cock crows |
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When the morning comes where will I go? |
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When the cock crows |
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When the love is gone where will I go? |
