Burning smell of black-dyed hair 
Bathroom bit by winter air 
You shit-talk your old lovers 
What's left 'neath your cold covers? 
Your father's shaky tacit holds 
Ankles strangled in the folds 
The fitted sheet at the feet of spring 
Come see me when you can't sing 
Any longer as things go 
Mouth all full of filthy snow 
And you wouldn't know 
But I still can't believe 
And that smell 
The burning hell 
Of the tress 
And what can I tell 
You but yes? 
And very well 
I wake up to a joke so deep 
Laugh myself right back to sleep 
Walk along the thawing shore 
That's pawing at my young drugstore 
Where last I saw your baby teeth 
Glinting as I fell beneath 
And you wouldn't know 
But I still can't believe 
And that smell 
The stinging swell 
Of the day 
Has shown me the way 
And what can I say 
But very well? 
And you wouldn't know 
But I still can't believe 
About that smell 
The way it fell 
Indelibly spry 
And how am I? 
Can't you tell? 
I'm very well 
I'm very well