A cross around the neck isn't enough to protect you from other people's fear. Something as innocent as lipstick makes a mother go ballistic because of what she holds dear. People believe what they're told if you tell him enough times. His mother believed like everyone else in a million lies like boys should be boys and not a sisbiscuit, singing and dancing and wearing lipstick. It should be resisted. Somewhere people got it in their heads that reality would be ripped to shreds by a mother's mistakes. How easy to burn the whole world down just by letting a boy dream of gowns. Is that all it takes? You can pray for forgiveness for imaginary sins. Aspire to be Sandy Duncan, a one-eyed pixie eating wheat thins. Paint your Pinewood Derby car Liza Minelli green; assume your mother was taken by aliens whenever she turns mean. The truth is scary isn't it. The truth is every innocence. The truth is every child's instinct. You don't need a three-dollar shrink to tell you you are enough and go-go boots feel like marshmallow fluff. Sex in the pool was innocent. Sex in the window was innocent. Your mother's fear was innocent. Your father was clueless and innocent. Tango, you're innocent. It's not your fault. The luxury of normalcy needs to be for all.

There at the back of your spine That's where the feeling lies When somehow your words hit like wine And the feeling starts to rise To my chest, and my heart And it tears me apart It's no use, my best When I try to protest But it's fine, it's fine, it's fine Then at the end of the day When all the lonesome souls have gone away You ask me to stay Okay But my skin, your eyes In the stillness of night We fall in, we lie In the treehouse of youth we tried But it's fine, it's fine, it's fine If I was meant for you, In falling the edges went askew But maybe we could undo Ourselves and start anew But my hands say please When I'm down on my knees Then you look at me, And I see what we could never be But it's fine, it's fine, it's fine I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine Now here, it's clear in my mind That here's where the feeling dies

Tammi she liked her cat I mean she liked to suck her cat off and put her finger in its ass Everytime she'd come home it would be waiting Everytime she'd come home it would be waiting To jump on her lap George was 52 when he went back to school. I mean he loved Raoul. Raoul was 15; he was the Math tutor George had always needed And George showed him many other things they could do And when George drove up to the school Raoul would be waiting When he drove up to the school Raoul would be waiting And they'd fuck in the park until the sun had faded. Neil and Cyrus shared a computer virus. I mean they only met in cyberspace but by snail mail on Saturdays they'd send small Seasoned chunks of flesh to digest at the same time talking in real time online in chat rooms They jacked off looking at each others' new wounds They jacked off looking at each others' new wounds Then they rubbed their wounds with semen And their salty eyes shared the passion between them The ideal of love is evil. It kills off all the other people. It kills off all the other people. Desire, it is a wild creature. Desire, it is a wild creature. David was a single father and he could not feed his baby daughter. I mean his breast did not give milk for her to suckle snuggling close she'd feel the depth of his love but though she'd bite and suck and mouth no milk would ever come out so when David slept she crawled down to his penis She pursed her lips onto his penis and waited Until the milk came spilling... and she drank every drop. Karen and Candy shared their finances. I mean they were financial analysts working for firms in Berne and Los Angeles and they romanced in the south of France where they put wads of sterilized cash down each others' pants. Then they pissed on the money. The money got mushy. Then they stuffed it all up into their coochies and they kissed scissored quivered and then at dawn Karen and Candy walked onto the lawn and laid out those thousands of euros and squatted down and shit all over the money. Holding hands, they shit all over the money and an hour passed then they watched the early morning masses reach into that fecal mound to find their lucky fortune and spread it all around. The ideal of love is evil. It kills off all the other people. It kills off all the other people. Desire, it is a wild creature. Desire all the wild creatures. Desire all the wild creatures. Desire all the wild features. Desire all of the grand mal seizures. Desire all the creepy people. Desire all of the child preachers. Desire all the nudy beaches. Desire all of the piles of nature. Desire all of the tire flower pots and thousands of knots and dots when no one ever fears getting bought or caught don't stop.

my mother knew that there was something different about her sissy boy every night I prayed that I would wake up the next day and be a woman I dreamed I was a goddess of the silver screen and I designed the dresses I’d wear later when my boobs came in but you walk like a girl is what they’d tell me you walk like a girl boy wake up and smell the coffee you walk like a girl raised by girls like a little pet monkey you walk like a girl I planned my exit I’d walk out the door I’d walk out in my high-heeled shoes I’d start a new life where no one could find me and I’d wear whatever dress I choose but you walk like a girl is what they’d tell me you walk like a girl boy wake up and smell the coffee you walk like a girl raised by girls like a little pet monkey you walk like a girl years have passed and now I’m in the city where I learned to be a star my parents and my sisters must admit they find it all a bit bizarre my hair is long and blond as I walk down the street I never did decide what kind of person I should be but now they say you walk like a girl no I mean it really you walk like a girl and girl you look so pretty you walk like a girl you know it makes me feel giddy you walk like a girl

Hiding out from the thought police In the hollow of a thick birch tree Should I get caught there'll be no one to blame but me After all these years I'm still constantly on guard (left, right; left, right) The rich aroma of his dew-dropped forest Is it poison if it heals? This fog turned wine for a fleeting moment Is it still sin if it reveals my Heart that nobody protected A wound that should have grown infected I'm on the edge of the green looking blue-ward Hoping you know that there is no code-word For Love I remember my first home in a hard trunk The heat of the bark made me jumpy I recall it was attached to a wannabe-punk who I detested for his failed attempts to love me I see him now on the open highway Only running from himself That fog turned wine could've shown him my way And peeled away to reveal a Heart that nobody protected A wound that grew to be infected I'm on the edge of the green looking blue-ward Hoping they know that there is no code-word For Love