My Feet are Classy as Fuck
My feet are classy as fuck
Coca Cola baby doll
You’ve just lost your luck
So duck and cover under
Your long lost dark-skinned lover
And sing another for your brother
I’ll buy a round, fire a round
Look around the town
Of men and women
Who have lost their frowns
Underground without a sound
Champions of lost and found
And baby who can say
If the river runs upstream today
Or if May showers just might
Pour into the clouds tonight
I’ll let you lie to me and ruin
The porter stout brewing
In my veins, drop the reins
Nothing lost and all is gained
But sane is the goal of this game
I’ll throw you off my back again
Turn and buck till you are tame
Because supremacy is real
And I can feel unnatural still
Break the will under oak trees still
Replace the pill popper never still
Clear off the copper top counter still
And if you save to grill, sit still
Peel off. And hold me still.
Until we come round to the corner store
I wrote you off on wanting more
To pour folklore down your throat
I’m the fish to overturn your boat
And would it be too cliché
To spin my yarns to a paper cup coat
Build something more for me,
You taste like soap
Your hands on my hips, take a sip
And don’t fall off the cliff
Into the midst of all without a hit
Drink first—live—and leap someday
But later maybe, not today.
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