What's a woman going to do   But throw away her bread;   Her feet are feeling funny   As she lies beneath the bed;   She reminisces of the pungent Adriatic Sea,   And then she crawls and counts her cans   And twitches like a flea.      What she really likes to do   Is sit upon a pew,   And make believe that time has stopped   And motionless is new;   Planes are stranded in the sky   And drains are stopping, too,   And she alone is laughing under   Eyelids full of flu.   She scurries hurries worries that   The wicked will receive   Their candy from a handsome man   And coffee from a thief;   She gazes at a hourglass and   Asks it if it cares,   And then she wonders if the lizard   Likes his lettuce rare:         "Lizard, yes a lizard, little lizard of the sea,   Conspicuously alcoholic, flicks his tongue at me!   Release me lizard! Licking lizard,   blizzard of the bea,   Mushed inside a sock you still   dare me --- to die   Dare me to die --- at home..."      "Coating all my lungs with honey,   Sticky coating running runny,   Feet of lizard fly!   And stop and fly and stop and fly   And flicker tongue is licking out   To find me --- feel me. Hide!   Hide from the tongue!   The tongue is coming! Cruising! Oozing!   Over land and under ashes,   In the sunlight, see -- it flashes,   Find a fly and eat his eye,   But don't believe in me.   Don't believe in me.   Don't believe in me."