Gross Passion

Gross Passion                                                December 10, 2006

I could feel her breathing down my neck
Well before she tread upon me.
I could hear her whispering sins into my ear
Just prior to her eyes singing me those songs.
Her nose spews fire.
Her words are silky red,
And if I don't feel anything,
Then I ain't really a man,
And in fact, I'm just dead.
Such is the lot we are fed, that gross passion.

There was something about this woman
Who is nothing more than thin air.
She's gotten me all hardened up
To the point where I can't swallow gin.
Her subliminal messages seem to come from everywhere,
From the sky above, to the fishy sea
And on the ground upon which I stand.
My sweat pours, and she seeks to stain my gear.
I can't believe this gross passion.

Who ever said buying you is illegal,
For everywhere I turn, you're $19.99 or less?
I'm sitting here, marveling at the lack of subtlties,
For if a gal has "it," she'll be set for life.
You're stacked every time I see you,
Though you're wearing a different mask at every turn.
They count on the average Joe not being in the know
That if you've seen one clam shell,
Than you've seen them all.
There are songs all about being promiscuous,
And all the shit that goes along with gross passion.