I find my bosoms hanging over the chair--
There is no friendly competition
Between me and the cat,
Oh alcoholic revelry...there is no more
Deliberately I am silent--
For silence is the hair that grows
between my...
And silently I am in gray hairs
Buried here in dirt
And the piano man knows my body
But my philosophy is not all there
Because sex is a spaceship broken
There is no destination...
And the broken vagina feels no soul
For she is a virgin inside
No one knows what she\'s feeling here
For she prays to the Jesus inside;
For I am in spiritual haste,
What world defines a woman with such hate?
For a woman is her own demand...
These bosoms do not walk themselves!
Oh the death of being a virgin...
It is a beauty I can\'t explain,
For I shall die being a virgin
And my cat shall run astray.