At night your grandmother dies on a bed of chamomile
And the Virgin Mary stuck her head out from the wall, it scared you
So you cried by floral bedside until the telephone rang in the next room
It was six-six-six from a soldier who was hysterical on a toilet seat
And you could tell he was good-looking just by the way that he would speak
And you both sob like little cherries being crushed between my fingers
I drop the pits on tile floors and they echo like a tongueless mouth
Oh, I tried to speak, I swear to God, I wish I were your stray dog
Eating scraps of meat you gave me because you saw my ribs and I was dirty
Eating scraps of meat you gave me because you saw my ribs and I was dirty
Oh, I wish I were your stray dog, roaming aimlessly around the city
