|
I found music |
|
and he found me |
|
I gave him some tambourine |
|
he game me a scream |
|
I washed his dirty underwear |
|
he made me toast |
|
Music filled my mug with Vaseline |
|
I gave him a choke |
|
We could be happy |
|
we could be free |
|
If we don't make-out |
|
or fall in love |
|
I found music |
|
and he found me |
|
bleeding from my fingers and knees |
|
plugged into a drum machine |
|
nailed to my head: a tambourine |
|
and a guitar laced to my waist |
|
A stone cold fever: |
|
an internal melody |
|
Guitars make me happy |
|
drum beast make us all free |
|
solid as a rock lover |
|
is the music in me |
|
I found music and he found me: |
|
a balding head-banding pre-teen |
|
so he seduced me in a dream: |
|
I kissed his ugly gangly greens |
|
he swallowed my pee |
|
We lived to be happy |
|
and prayed to be free |
|
but it was soon found out |
|
that my body is brief |
|
I found music |
|
and he found me |
|
he kept me singing |
|
to my dying day |
|
Sing to be happy |
|
hum to be free |
|
the eternal harmony |
|
music and me |