Lyrics

I like liquor any time and any place. But in this uncharted barroom sampling a sea of exotic elixirs I am elated.
So in respect for spirits drunk and spirits dead I do not look up the skirt of the belligerent bartender one leg balanced on a ladder dragged with oh so much effort and exasperation.
And listing tippy forward she enumerates a litany of lovely distillations from the very top shelf. Names I have never heard before and I am ecstatic in anticipation and salvation and I want them every one and she blurbs,
“Pick one asshole. I’m not bringing ‘em all down.
And oh I am awfully offended at this affront to my euphoria and without thinking foot to rung upend the step unit.
And oh that is a mistake I should not have made and now my bliss is amiss and my mind is a mess and there’s glass in my eye a fist in my face and I am compressing condensing and crinkling and crackling all standard features of the Terminator 800 rated number one among guns that stun. Now available in pink.
And watching the footage in court I am ashamed but amazed my body has the capacity to contort in such broken doll display.
And I confess after that I fell hard for electricity. And even today I am prone to wedge a serrated knife into a three prong outlet for many a minute and languish while my eyes roll white and dream of generators.
And it is now four seasons and four days from that court of criminal affairs and let’s be clear there was no shortage of amperage on the inside if you were willing to go along.
And I am back on the street fully charged fully galvanized fully trouble.
And right round the block they’re throwing rice and rollicking all around and for rationale whatever this jamboree is vexing as hell so I accelerate to cardinal red and advance electrons oozing out my skin and she swing-pivot turns lifts her veil and says,
“Goodness gracious laser beam, you keep all that juice inside and come back tomorrow.”
And that sight of her is so savory so satisfying I sleep on the sidewalk in my self same spot.
And when I wake tongue and pavement pressed together I am already attired in a Mens Warehouse tux and it fits pretty good and everywhere around the whole day is happening and people are stepping up and over and I stumble stand fall and Chantilly White she is there adjusting my pocket square and meows,
“You’re gonna blow dynamo, if we don’t plug you in soon.”
And bam she goes sprint round the corner cathedral train catching heavy air and she is a superhero it is certain and I am running wild after institutional issued oxford clipping curb and for the second time in only seconds my face is sidewalk flush.
And a man who might be Elvis if Elvis were alive and missing his right arm locks his existing fingers in my cummerbund and with surprising strength hoists me up.
And he is my best man Barry and says he has my back and right now that is reassuring.
And she is laughing like a lunatic prom queen and pulls a silk hankie from somewhere or nowhere and power presses it against my bleeding scalp and with a look of discipline and adoration demands,
“What’s your name, Fireball? And don’t lie, or you’ll die alone.”
And I say, “Jerry.”
And she says, “That’s my favorite name.”
And I know that’s probably a lie but it’s as good a place to start a life together as any.
And she is running the show with pit boss precision simultaneously saying the vows and saying the sermon and though I am bleeding I know I am blessed and the marriage is free but the service eight dollars and the cake is delicious and not dry at all and my heart is racing and my head is hemorrhaging and I am craving current and with seraphim lips she vibrates,
“Don’t blow a fuse flash, there’s a long night ahead.”
And we are gone gone gone in a flurry of thrown rice and other refuse.
Then in what is minutes but seems only moments she is radiant reclining in this squalid lodge.
And as I approach I smell bourbon and babies and cup cakes and coffee and orange sachet and for three nights and two days it is torrid and calm and serene and sumptuous.
And then it is over and I am flickering fading away and she nestles my head on her breast and there amid the plus-minus oscillation of her heart I feel all seven loves and know without question this is my zenith for all things before and all things to come.
And though I still search for amperage and absinthe
there is amity when I insert the knife and feel my mains hum the essence of a bride and best friend and bedside companion and first kiss and first base and first day of school and playmate and partner and mistress and mother and I power on for another day.