Let's fess up to fire CrackerJack snacks
And a piggy bank built and filled to be spilled and broken
Hammy fat fingers pinch clammy cold coins
All the leaves left wither a sickly brittle brown
I'm dying to tell you I'm dying
I don't need a reason
You've got yourself such a comfortable trap
Yes, I am taking to you
Yes, I know this is shameless
Yes, I am taking to you
You've got yourself such a comfortable trap
A matinee of sunshine ribbons on a sheetless matress
Moonlighting as swooning
Moonlight isn't really from the moon at all
I am shining smiles and flowery glows
I am drunk in the breeze in the park chasing kites and splashing puddles
Forget-me-nots in my gut
That's what you get
We nibbled our bu*ter cookie rings to the knuckle
Artichoke trophies choked down through Nevada sandy enzymes
Past ribs choking scorching hearts
Down to an autotrophic stomach
I called her June until late last spring
Quite possibly March leap year
Automatic trophies aren't sh**