Damn

Can you make a space on the seat? A box-like shape for a silly woman? Damn, a chamois I thought I'd made a tambourine When I am led, I resent Only when I'm left do I know what I said The old, it bickers with the fresh When I'm standing, with my brush in the emptiness Sorry I was late and you didn't get your weekend Sorry I was late and you didn't get your weekend My mother said "Why must you drag all the hopes out of bed?" I blame the seasons We all have our reasons, I meant Sorry I was late and you didn't get your weekend I did at one time attempt In landing sleeves and a silly ribbon There must be a reason, he said I know the reason, he meant Damn it, Hanny When you jump, up and down The chains, almost sound, like a tambourine