Lobster T**s

High on misfortune and drunk on the full moon She's lifting her leg at the bar Caught in her staring, his hopes past all caring He gives her a lift to the car He says 'Dare I re-enter her honeycomb centre And risk an attack from the swarm?' 'I know she's bat-crazy, but fuck it, I'm lazy And besides, that porridge is warm...' She's got them lobster tits... Blurring the angles, their rhythm entangles And ends in a stain on the floor Smartly departin', his hand with her heart in, He's done, but she's itchin' for more She'll fixate the favour that's bound to enslave her On one too elusive to groom A witch without warning at four in the morning, She arrives like a spell in his room... She's got them lobster tits... 'Try in your mind', he tell her 'To die on your own 'Then you'll decide the letters they carve on your stone...' With rising dementia, her cure-skewered preventure Has garnished her grin with a tweak Stalking his sister, kissed frogs till they blister She hides in his trash for a week Finally frightened, he begs her to tighten The leash of insanity's hound Charmed that he noticed the fly in her lotus She swears she'll be coming around... She's got them lobster tits... 'Try in your mind', he tell her 'To die on your own 'Then you'll decide the letters they carve on your stone...' Use them well...