Ah!   let's 'fess up to    firecrackerjack snacks   and a piggy bank built   and filled to be spilled and broken   hammy fat fingers    pinch clammy cold coins   all the leaves left   wither a sickly brittle brown      I'm dying to tell you I'm dying   I don't need a reason      You've got yourself such a comfortable trap   yes I am talking to you   yes I know this is shameless   yes I am talking to you   You've got yourself such a comfortable trap      [Spoken]   A matinee of sunshine ribbons   on a sheetless mattress   moonlighting as swooning   moonlight isn't really from the moon at all   I am shining smiles and flowery glows   I am drunk in the breeze    in the park chasing kites and splashing puddles   forget meknots in my gut   that's what you get   we nibbled butter cookie rings to the knuckle   artichoke trophies choked down   through nevada sandy enzymes   past ribs choking scorching hearts   down to an autotrophic stomach   I called her june, until that late spring   quite possibly march leap year   automatic trophies aren't shit