Yes, I Am Talking To You

Let's fess up to fire CrackerJack snacks

And a piggy bank built and filled to be spilled and broken

Hammy fat fingers pinch clammy cold coins

All the leaves left wither a sickly brittle brown

I'm dying to tell you I'm dying

I don't need a reason

You've got yourself such a comfortable trap

Yes. I am taking to you

Yes. I know this is shameless

Yes. I am taking to you

You've got yourself such a comfortable trap

And you are shameless

A matinee of sunshine ribbons on a sheetless mattress

Moonlighting as swooning

Moonlight isn't really from the moon at all

I am shining smiles and flowery glows

I am drunk in the breeze in the park chasing kites and splashing puddles

Forget-me-nots in my gut

That's what you get

We nibbled our butter cookie rings to the knuckle

Artichoke trophies choked down through Nevada sandy enzymes

Past ribs choking scorching hearts

Down to an autotrophic stomach

I called her June until late last spring

Quite possibly March leap year

Automatic trophies aren't shit