under your feet

i ain’t no spider

laying in a grave

waiting for the cancer

to come and clear my plate

i ain’t no liar

all filled up with gold

trying out all my answer

on anyone who will listen

i ain’t no real chemist

i just make stuff that tastes great

and puts the pants on the monkey

when no one else will

i ain’t no harlequin romance novel

i'm a real nancy drew cryer

all the time

ask my girlfriend. she’ll tell you it’s true

i ain’t no back alley deal

that you made with the italian

that didn’t turn out as badly, i guess

as it could have

i ain’t no mouse in your mouth

while you try to say your name 

to the police officer

standing beside your car

i ain’t the dish filled with bacon

ready to be enjoyed

your heart in a glass

by the stove

i am the face of the grey horizon

the receding hairline of the city

breaking under the weight of heaven

open your eyes

open your eyes

open your eyes