Snow white whiskers
On your bloated neck
Mouth agape
At the surprise of it all
Bologna sandwich
And a glass
Half full of scotch
And the TV
The TV was still on
I cannot see through the heavy fog
Oh good its lifting
Oh God its back
I cannot see through the heavy fog
Oh good its lifting
Oh God its back
Everything could be explained by Roman
Or English History
Or Sigmund Freud
Or Greek Philosophy
So many handwritten notes
Of appointments passwords and plans
So many pictures of people
We never talked about
And the TV
The TV was still on