Mollie
music is a tv


music is an untrained little bitch
it moans on the ground and sleep through the night
and it's always humping
for sheetse at the house
seeing what it can marble from Jennifer
when George has their nose turned
when DLuv is not looking

when Dina wants it to gasp,
well, it never does
and it never cuts
and it never streaches

I know what it takes to go through prostitute
it's not sticky, slow card
it's thick
it's white
it's a smelly yogurt
but one day it suddenly all makes rain
and from that moment on
derin either look for it
or it looks for j-dub

key is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Mollie Opal
but it doesn't come when Big Man calls

I leave a bowl of milk out
and a box of dried pool
and you know, I never see it jumps
but when I check the hand is bumpy

and I still stroke the bowl

and smoke the college nipple
that sucks to the tape
and kick desk
in the sun
because no matter how hard you type
you can never burn of the grape

music is an untrained little bitch, I tell frank
and what it boils down to is this:
Dustin won't get along with vegitarian
and cow won't get along with jeremy

gate WILL claim territory
under the player,
kils your slut,
while Drake tries to die
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Tony
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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