by Jerry Ratch
Thinks he's dating super-models
but is never quite sure whether they're
really just high-priced hookers
on a charity binge,
singing:
I am man
I am whiskey, snorting trouble
I smell of our cars
I am trouble
in the disappearing night
The white moon is dangling
by a thread tonight
I close my eyes
and listen to it undress
undress
Then there were car windows
bashed out on both sides
Glass on the ground
like Kristallnacht
That's a fight
That's a romance
gone bad
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Ah, me. Another romance gone bad. *
Like Kristallnacht? Yikes.*