Bottom Drawer - The Wolfgang Press

Stop wearing my shirts

Stop wearing my socks

I’m not your mother

I can’t be bothered

You say you don’t think I’m funny anymore

So you put my face in the bottom drawer

You keep your eyes for the boy next door

I don’t call that funny anymore

Just catch a mirror

Find out who’s lonesome

My suit is fine, I’m not a D. J

You say you found it

I say you lost it

I say you know why I can’t find it

I know what you’ve been saying

Yes I know where the kitchen sink is

You’re making eyes at the boy next door

I don’t call that funny anymore

Woman me and I hold my eyes

And I keep it sane but I don’t know why

Keep going time

Keep going questions

My eyes have seen my own mess

I know why the bedrooms stinking

My house is full of strangers

I’m not making for the boy next door

So keep your pants in the bottom drawer

It’s coming to you

It’s coming to you

It’s coming to you

It’s riding to you

Here it comes on two brown legs