As I toss and churn in my lonely bed
I dream of dreams that are truly dead
Of a silky pony that held my heart
A fighting Weiner that twitched my twat.
But those are hopes that have long fled
As I sweat and lament in fear and dread
While the shape of my future life begins
I am sorry I’m thinking of cat’s again.
I dream of dreams that are truly dead
Of a silky pony that held my heart
A fighting Weiner that twitched my twat.
But those are hopes that have long fled
As I sweat and lament in fear and dread
While the shape of my future life begins
I am sorry I’m thinking of cat’s again.
(Marcotte’s Lament 2011)
5 comments:
I read somewhere once that she admires David Crosby.
If she was old enough, she would have been a Donovan girl.
There's a homosexual subtext in there.
She looks like my Aunt Carole, back in the day.
I do miss Dennis the Peasant's taking apart of Marcotte's writings.
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