Bactine versus Bakhtin (Take Four)
Mike and me sometimes remember we're in this story
What keeps getting attacked by all these other stories.
It's like we get all high and shit and there's Blackbeard
With his black fuckin' beard all on fire. He's telling us
We're a real piece of work, snuggled down under scabs
We can't huff or push or drag or snort our way out from.
I say what good is a naked lady on a horse or some fairy
Too scared to grow up. One time with a meat hook
I chased Mike screaming past my dead-drunk step-dad
Crashed on the couch. Slaughter house fuck rose up fists wadded
Ready to wail on whoever thought they had the balls to break
Him off his between shifts nap. He's legs pillared, hair riled
Glitter on his nose and cheeks from spending his lunch
At the titty bar, joggling his face in the crack of One-eye
Sandy's floppy baps. Slapping us senseless he's only hitting
Our vapor trail, jetting like we are on two tabs of blotter
He's like a baby in a bonnet in a cradle falling from a tree
I say. Mike says from inside the black hole of his eyes
Now here's your fuckin' fairytale. Me, I'm thinking lullaby.