Текст: Meryn Cadell. Angel Food For Thought. Sharkhead.

I got heartache in my ribs
just as big as the over-inflated head on your shoulders.
So dramatic, baby.
So glad we came dinner together to watch you throw fits,
and food.
Bartenders are whispering, ?Who does he think he is,
Just who the hell.?
I tell them with my sensible eyes that this is just a bad day for you.
See what I do for you?
And I sweetly hold your hands
as your hands hold up your head.
I find it hard to express the kind of joy I feel when we?re together.
So where?s the correlation to the boy who wrapped my feet this morning?
Who?s the one who holds me and the wall and cries?
And I know sweet, it is you,
okay, please keep your voice down, okay, I know, I love you.
I love you with all these aching ribs, chummy.
My friends said I would never be happy with you.
You said that history would prove them wrong.
You said did I want to be in your biography or not.
You said, "Swing with me or die a waitress."
And boy do we swing.
Oh my sweet sharkhead blasto-pal,
how I have learned to love the way you drool like that
when your head finally slumps to one side ...
Now can I call the taxi?