My spine can be.
The paino keyes,
That your finger tips play.
Wide eyed as the ships collide,
Along the docks of the lower east side,
And we’re on this cruise,
Of self abuse,
We’re highlights on the evening news.
And we’re sweating out our sings,
Through our ordinary skin.
Though I love your touch!
I’ll tap my wrist watch,
This has been fun love,
But your tongue can be so cliche