frittering agendas

once you had them all lined up
you didn't know what to do with em.
you looked like the staged moment
of a   hollywood stud leaving the club
with twenty two women on his twenty
two bulging muscles. someone just had
to be the lucky one, going to bed with fox news.

now you're all, what if it's so good, i can't smoke it?
the end of this is all whacked out, but you
give it to me anyway.  i will pull your chain baby
but you can't put any holes in me. enough's enough.

/i don't know if i can take anymore/
too harsh?

/my fingers hurt, there's all this stubble on the floor/
there's just a few left. put your sandals on.

/i could walk on water if you'd just let go/
oh baby, you know it's not that simple

/saint, you said. you said saint/
it's not a catholic thing. it's the opposite of rosary.
you must  forget the names.