Legless, with the powerder puff You've got light, still cannot read And the mattress is two bored-out eyes Supposed to be a lightening bolt But as I lie in bed It's been middle class Middle thoughts, middle as C Tantric forms of intercourse No divorce, drunk as a horse And the waitress is the only one Who can speak and say what she means As I lie awake It's been Camelot I can a lot, it's kennel and key As she's waiting Stroking my hair Choking places Stroking my tie Princes with the dollar eyes Morning fries and light-up TV And advances in the sweater vest Picking homes, picking out cheese As i lie to them Second wallabee Second son What happened to me