i can't love the radio
oh, though it speaks right of me
don't you know
it hovers right above me

oh, but i can't love your radio
the whisper words like pearls
or coral oral vapors tapeworms
taped in brunette curls

no i can't love my radio
it doesn't seem to play
the stations that i want to hear
and here i sit all day and pray

you'll listen look inside my books and cook me meals
and feed me looks
but i'm a crook
and junkie girls they just don't know
about my radio

no, i don't love her radio
although it speaks right to me
in faces through barbiturates
i ache for it to use me

turn me to the station degradation fascination with my death
and to left
oh no
you'll see me radio

no i don't hear the radio
you need to make it louder
the pitch it itches up my nose
and stains my clothes in powder

Awesome write. I was missing your words, glad you posted again.

great as usual plastic

awesome!!

nice piece...always good the hear your voice

cool