We never had the type of sex promised us by erotic films
No puffed-up lips, no too-big dills
No indiscretions behind fuzzy steering wheels
No incest, bondage, torture, shame
My therapist had warned me not to scream his name
And a pretty spotty record kept him from choking me the way I wanted
But I loved every piece of that man
His big round nose just like a cabbage
So I’ve dragged his body to you now
It’s right here in my baggage
Listen to me, listen, Herr Doctor, please
Can you do an autopsy?
Saw through my pelvis or break my knees
Can you find my lover inside me?
No, I didn’t eat him though I really wished I could
I never had the knack for making zuppa out of wood
I tried to get him off the floor
But a casual glance confirmed he wasn’t moving anymore
He’s clearly left his mortal form:
All that’s left is a sad puppet growing more and more deformed
Anyway,
The grave is cold and he hates cold so I know he must be somewhere in me
Where my heart is warm and beating
Listen to me, listen, Herr Doctor, please
Can you do an autopsy?
Saw through my pelvis or break my knees
Can you find my lover inside me,
Where he’s hiding out from the reaper?
In my organs and skin
The tyranny of death is so beneath us
I know he’ll carry on within
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