Forty-five things are wrong tonight.
The clouds are about as thoughtful as a ski mask.
The expiration date on my indulgences just ended.
The teeth of whatever protects me are falling out.
Soon I'll have no smile.

Let's make execution your wife.
Let's put her on a mattress floating in a river so polluted it's worn out its name. She's autographing the moon like mad, like it won't cost anyone a thing.
Let's make you marry her every day, over and over again.
Let's see you wash those dishes.

Let's watch her microwave a small bowl of sorrow.
Watch her place the ghosts of my caresses into little plastic bags.
Watch her use her cell phone and change a tampon at once.
Watch her eat this stupid camera with a fork and knife.
Watch her like a rabbit's foot.

See even imagination should take its vitamins.
See a little knife is the same as a big knife.
See her chop me off like a haircut.
See inside her garbage.

The heart is a jellyfish that should be painted and shined like a used car.
The heart is the monster in something as simple as a toothbrush.
The heart is a radish made of pure distances.
The heart is a forest ranger with herpes.
The heart is the last fortune cookie on the plate.

It says darkness is still nature.