Place In Your Heart

Drinking bargains like Mike Baldwin
Testing grounds for psychic fall-ins
I’m a tarpit with loose manners
Sitting ducks in spitting distance
Wheels on the Trans-Atlantic flight
That penetrates the ocean floor

I know that there’s no place for me in your heart
So let me be
Please, don’t let me see
I could rent the space
Mid-winter’s bleak for us pariahs of the neo-chic

Ceremonies in the Shetlands
Kind of micro-managed wetlands
Mine’s the kind of life
You want to hear in a bath tub
Maybе not so close
Morose as Bambi’s mother dying for our childhood sins
I know thеre’s no place for me in your heart
But let me know if a spot comes along
If you’ve got a spot and you want to bop, call me