Betty

You're a triflin', trick-ass, two-bit hustlin' ho,
But I'd still take a bullet if I thought it'd help you out.
I can't explain that,
I don't want to,
All I want is you, again
And again
Till neither one of us can walk
And the neighbors start callin' our next of kin.
I miss your skin,
Your weight on my lap,
The lift of your sharpied-on eyebrow
That crashes rickshaws in my gut
Kicks me in the knees
Sends me flyin' 'cross the park
Like a squirrel
Baby girl
I should tend to my own nuts
Forget about the feel of your size-six heels
Wipe the boot-print off of my chest
Move on, and call it a game,
But I can't
I'm not the same
Since I tasted your strange,
Maybe I'm fucked up,
Baby I fucked up
In that fucked-up apartment on the river.
The juicer's still breathin' and breedin'
And I can still be your Captain
Even if my tears are bleedin'.
I'm not worried about what happened
All I want is you, again,
And again,
Till they pry you from my cold dead grip.
With my last breath I'll say you're my favorite
That I'm gonna keep you forever and then some
Turn that wrinkled grey ass pink
With my liver-spotted hands
And give up the ghost.