And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains

And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient
Though the specifics might be vague
And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta
When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey

And the water rolls down the drain
The blood rolls down the drain
O, what a lonely thing
In a blood red drain

July, July, July

"A Cautionary Song"

There's a place your mother goes when everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of beacon street
And if you listen you can hear her weeping,
She's weeping, cause the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly falling on her petticoats.
And she's standing in the harbour

And she's waiting for the sailors in the jolly boat.
See how they approach

With dirty hands and trousers torn they grapple 'til she's safe within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips to keep her sorry tongue from any speaking, or screaming
And they row her out to packets where the sailor's sorry racket calls for maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales when her clothes fall to a bundle and she's laid in bed on the upper deck

And so she goes from ship to ship, her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely pinioned
'Til at last she's satisfied the lost of the marina's teeming minions, and their opinions

And they tell her not to say a thing to cousin, kindred, kith or kin or she'll end up dead
And they throw her thirty dollars and return her to the harbour where she goes to bed, and this is how your fed

So be kind to your mother, though she may seem an awful bother, and the next time she tries to feed you collard greens,
Remember what she does when you're asleep

And she's waiting for the sailors in the jolly boat.
See how they approach

With dirty hands and trousers torn they grapple 'til she's safe within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips to keep her sorry tongue from any speaking, or screaming
And they row her out to packets where the sailor's sorry racket calls for maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales when her clothes fall to a bundle and she's laid in bed on the upper deck

And so she goes from ship to ship, her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely pinioned
'Til at last she's satisfied the lost of the marina's teeming minions, and their opinions

And they tell her not to say a thing to cousin, kindred, kith or kin or she'll end up dead
And they throw her thirty dollars and return her to the harbour where she goes to bed, and this is how your fed

So be kind to your mother, though she may seem an awful bother, and the next time she tries to feed you collard greens,
Remember what she does when you're asleep

"Odalisque"

They've come to find you, Odalisque
As the light dies horribly
On a fire escape you walk
All rare and resolved to drop

And when they find you, Odalisque
They will rend you, terribly
Stitch from stitch 'til all

Your linen limbs will fall

Lazy lady had a baby girl
And a sweet it made
Raised on pradies, peanut shells and dirt
In a railroad cul-de-sac

And what do we do with ten baby shoes
A kit bag full of marbles and a broken billiard cue?
What do we do?

What do we do?

Fifteen stitches will mend those britches right
And them rip them down again
Sapling switches will rend those rags alright
What a sweet sound it makes

And what we do with ten dirty Jews
A thirty-ought full of rock salt and a warm afternoon?
What do we do?

What do we do?

Lay your belly under mine
Naked under me, under me
Such a filthy dimming shine
The way you kick and scream, kick and scream

And what do we with ten baby shoes
A kit bag full of marbles and broken billiard cue?
What do we do?
What do we do?

"Cocoon"

This cocoon, caught in vesuvius' shadow
Only the ashes remain
And I waited there for you
Why couldn't you?
Here we lie waiting for something to startle
To shake us from gravity's pull
And so the sleeping hours are through

What can we do?

The tainted election, the low dirty war, it happened before you came to
But this is solution, and this is amends
The joke always tends to come true
But there on your windowsill over the unmoving platoon
Written in paperback, the key to the quarterback's room
Under waning moon

This quiet serves only to hide you
Provide you