Just bill me for the total cost:
The chair, the drapes, whatever's lost.
I will replace the plates myself, if you don't mind.
You're not the girl I used to date,
If dating's what you'd call a hate-
fuck, pressed against a subway grate, in yellow snow,
With trains below.

This time I'll be so polite, you won't believe your ears.
Talk about you, talk about him, talk about time.
I'm perfectly in line and perfectly at ease.
Talk about you, talk about him, talk about time.

I got agendas up my sleeve,
I got agendas like you wouldn't believe.
I tend to think that jealousy looks good on me.
It's nice to see you've traded up
To this perpetual photo op.
It's time, I think, we both gave up on being young.
I think I'll bite my tongue.

This time I'll be so polite, you won't believe your ears.
Talk about you, talk about him, talk about time.
There'll be no ugly scenes. I'll compliment the wine.
Talk about nose, talk about age, talk about time.
This time I'll be so polite, I'll be a proper child.
Listening to you talk about him, oh look at the time.
The weather has been nice, athough a chill sets in at night.
Talk about you, talk about him, talk about time.

My intended
Calls me up to say
He's off early
He is on his way
He is coming over
And I am not ashamed
Of my intended
He's on top of his game

I'm intending
This to be a blast
Watch the future
Woman With a Past
I am thinking forward
Thanks for your concern
I'm indebted
I'm indentured
I'm endangered

Learn
Goddamn you, learn
Just learn

I have tended
To the task at hand
Better end it
Cut my losses and
Just go unprotected
Than to live unloved
Don't you think so?

Learn
Goddamn you, learn
Just learn

A ramekin of blood:
That's all I ever spat out,
The closest to disaster
That I ever stood.
It's the best feeling.

When the world implodes, I'll limp away, such is my kind.
When the music fails, I'll bake you cakes, such is my kind.
You get killed enough times, you survive.

A tablespoon of ash,
A thimble of asbestos.
The farthest from disaster
That I ever crashed.
It's the best feeling.

When the world implodes, I'll limp away, such is my kind.
When the music fails, I'll bake you cakes, such is my kind.
You get killed enough times, you survive.
It's the best feeling:
I know the proof on a ten-cent ring,
Ambrosia played by a stunt meringue.
But you're not into that sort of thing
When you have killed enough time.

Dear Leader
My condolences
I'm drifting
In and out of sense
I'm falling
Off the beat again
Again

Your letter
Found Mother well.
Our garden
Fountain, marble well
Are falling
Into disrepair
Again

Dear reader
My calligraphy
Is failing
It is failing me
The stylus
Disobeys the hand
Again

I spent a better half of my life
Trying not to believe it
Glad to report I almost forgot
Your patronymic

Done sifting
Through this sorry soil
Done weaving
In and out of style
I'm falling
On my feet again
Again

I spent a better half of your life
Trying not to repeat it
Glad to report I almost forgot
My patronymic
Is same as yours

I want to kick someone in the face
See if it brings back better days

I've never felt this nostalgia for
Myself an hour and a half before
The introduction of this malaise
I want to kick someone in the face

I haven't fought since seventh grade
Perhaps the first big mistake I made
But I renounce my prissy ways
I'd like to kick someone in the face
As this and every last fight we fought
Ends in a circular firing squad
I'd rather kick someone in the face
Instead

Wet dreams are made of these
Schoolchild slingshot fantasies
Long shot was never this long
So keep your head up, moving on

I am a voice without a sound
I may amuse but not astound
There is no object to my hate
I simply hate how things turned out
I want to kick someone in the face
See if it brings back better days

ALT

Six years stateless, with a refugee passport,
Didn't make me much; just made me a bastard
Son to a culture that couldn't be arsed,
Unless explicitly asked, to put forth the effort

Of absorbing a sob in an unsexy accent.
Still, I fancy myself an asset,
more so in view of our other export:
pseudo-bisexual bobbysoxers.

Leave it to Ms. Arulpragasam's
Paper tigers in press releases.
I'm well aware of how short the lease is.
I had my credentials; Nazis gassed them.

I can marshal relatives by the echelon--
Depends who I'm trying to make an impression on.
Shake memory down for all my birth's worth,
Slake a Midwestern hausfrau's dirt-thirst.
I'd open a bordello had you not gotten there first.

I had credentials.

Six years stateless, with a refugee passport,
Didn't make me authentic, just made me an asshole.
From those of us thrashing against the glass -
Thanks, I guess, to those who got past it.

I had credentials.

When I was young, I broke into a house
I took some money, a hi-fi, a chef's knife
And I went into a bedroom and sat on the bed
Closed my eyes, clutched the duvet

And I saw
A long and happy life.
A long and happy life.
A long and happy life.

A woman smokes by the hospital doors
Her cell goes off; she fumbles for five rings; "Hello."
She lets the pavement give way underfoot
Gets back up, straightens her suit

And I see
A long and happy life.
A long and happy life.
A long and happy life.

You're the one that survived
Shards of glass in cocktail ice.
There is not much to do,
There is not much to those who do it.
Pick up your pots and pans,
Move to a brand new place.
There's nothing in this world
That couldn't be replaced in time.
And I know why.

You're a mess and I feel half alive.
We all tend to, at times.

Born in a seaside town,
All resorts look the same.
Seagulls in a hospital car park.
How did I get away?
Pack up your pots and pans,
Move to a brand new place.
There's nothing in this world
That couldn't be retraced to you.
And I know why.

You're a mess and I feel half alive.
We all tend to, at times.

Listen, I am not a perfect diplomat, I know.
I won't deny it.
At best, I succeed in somewhat softening a blow.
So, just be quiet.
Don't dignify it with a "no."
A story had been owed, a story has been sold,
And I'm sticking by it.
And you still can bite.

Sucker for an illustrated version of events,
For peace and quiet.
Listen, if you think you've seen contrition, think again --
You want contrite, you'll get contrite.
Here: I'm sorry that I'm here.
I'm sorry that you're wrong.
Oh, just be quiet.
Don't dignify it with a "no."
A story had been owed, a story has been sold,
And I'm sticking by it.
And you still can bite.