Poor little thing Standing framed in the door Staged in a fancy dress Silent and dark As my invitation was Here is your mail And the scent of your name Hangs in air As I shave with the curse of the blade 'Til you would harbor me in Baptized in blood and soap I clawed at The envelope reads Dear meager things you wrote Could hit home, cut throat Come press my sour skinned and seedless lips to yours Come pa** by, let me hear you talk again Let me be your seasoned friend Just let me hear you talk again Listen, I'm glad you came I knew you would I waited for months Now we'll... milk the dwindling hours So where's the sun, I could sneak out the blooms And bring out some joy From the gloom, all morning And afternoon, put on that song And sway around the room Come press my sour skinned and seedless lips to yours Come pa** by, let me here you talk again I want to be your seasoned friend Just let me hear you talk again Mmmmmm Dadada,nanana Come pa** by