No Mean Thing

Joe's like gristle in the sickening heat, carpeting the walls
The silicone Annie's with their TV breasts are suckling them all
Joe's light fires, Joe's unblock sinks, and Joe's a live wire with his puzzle-ring
Annie's waiting home he thinks, but things aint what they used to be
And that's no mean thing

You pitched your money on a three way nag that never could be traced
And that beautiful aires you were bound to meet never put you in your place
So you scuffle and shrink with the routine thing, take tin foil holidays twice a week
Now you don't know whether to laugh or cry so you laugh yourself to sleep each night
And that's no mean thing

And there's a time to think it over, and there's a time to work it out
And there's a time to be wrapped in clover, and there's a time to be wrapped in doubt
And that's no mean thing

I find myself walking in the direction of morning, and recognize a voice,
the one doing all the talking
Surprise, this key fits this doorway, it came from my pocket
I dangle my legs from the edge of the bed
as bait for the bastards that live on my carpet
and bursting the flees between surrogate digits I exclaim...
These hands aren't mine!

(© Sputnik Weazel ...from "Tin Foil Holidays" - CD 2007)

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This track was where the title "Tin Foil Holidays" came from
(can't remember writing it, but I did).