Rats In My Sunshine . . .
Old moldy coat, the best I got. She needs to see me dress the best
My shoes grew bloody in time, but curse the rats in my sunshine.
No lights in her whoring mouth. And my cupboard's dusty Rye
I hear her bustle. Smell her neck. I cared less for the gray haired skull.
I'm not much. She best be kind. I touch the rats in my sunshine.
Her pride borne in stone. Here my bottles are but bone
Her promiscuous bed forever laid in pine
And be merciful to us, you elder rats in my sunshine.
I'll gamble my last. A pretentious kiss to a ghostly past, dawn lost the rhyme
I cripple along. To her I'd belong. Singing overheard lies entwine
While shadows recall, I finally fall, while laughs the rats in my sunshine.
An eyelash coin. An hour, two hours, no more worth than a captain's dime
Now lay down, pray for droplets, you heartless rats in my sunshine.
A miser once. A lady twice. Maybe her empty grave will see
A faded step. To death we crept, never looking what eyes we had
Backs to his guns, she waves, sleeps with him and dines
While I watch with the rats in my sunshine.