The Telephone Another night of too much cough syrup I'm awakened by the incessant ringing of a telephone I still have dreams caked in the corners of my eyes and my mouth is dry and tastes shitty Again the ringing Slowly I bustle out of bed The remnants of an erection still lingering in my shorts Like a bothersome guest Again the ringing Carefully I abscond to the bathroom As to not display my manhood to others There I make the perfunctory morning faces Which always seem to precede my daily contribution To the once-blue toilet water That I always enjoy making green Again the ringing I shake twice like most others and I'm annoyed by the dribble that always seems to remain Causing a small acreage of wetness on the front of my briefs I slowly languidly, lazily, crazily, Stumble into the den Where my father smokes his guitars I mean cigars In his easy chair I know all about easy chairs and then I sing a song for my friends Jesus is my boyfriend Jesus is my boyfriend You can't have him Because jesus is my boyfriend Ringing ringing Dang it goddamn motherfucking son-of-a-bitch is ringing I walk into the kitchen and I Stare blankly at that shrieking plastic bastard Since it keeps ringing I know it's her and since it keeps ringing she knows it's me We are the world, we are the children We are the ones who make a darker day So let's start killing There's a choice you're making We're sparing our own lives It's true we'll make a darker day Just you and me
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