Cold Coffee and Ava Gardner

She left some cargo-pants on the floor, said she wonÕt be back any more..
ThereÕs a kid two gardens away been squawking Wonderwall all day
On my Betty Page centrefold, my cup of coffeeÕs growing cold..
ItÕs such a bleak place to be, this Alcatraz I call me...

She felt-tipped a message on my disco shoes,
ÔI could say I loved you, but it wouldnÕt be true.
You only wanted me Ôcos I looked like Ava GardnerÕ

Like in some French arthouse movie, all Chardonnay and ennui..
Still her touch felt like rain on my skin
Why donÕt that kid just pack it in?
IÕve got my cigarettes and my pills. 
I watch the sun dip over indigo hills
Pick up her scent on a magazine, 
SheÕs like some country IÕve never been.


Fairylights

I drift in and out of consciousness like Houdini in his chains.
IÕm sick beyond repair but IÕm not feeling any pain.
I swallowed all the powder from the jar with the skull and crossbones on
the lid
But IÕm not afraid Ôcos no afterlife could ever suck as much as this one
did.

I pray thereÕll be no miracles, please God make me worse.
ÔCos the bleeping on the monitor donÕt rock my universe.
All my life I found the words, mostly stuff IÕd steal from toilet walls.
But there are no words for how good it feels when oblivion has got you
by the balls.

ThereÕs a drunk outside my window, bawling out my requiem.
But I donÕt see it as my Calvary, more like my Bethlehem.
The red and smoky light of hellÕs already swirling like a fog behind my
eyes. 
Inside I was always dead, flesh and blood was only my disguise.

So donÕt light me a candle tonight.
Deck my deathbed out with a cobweb of fairylights.