I grew up dreamin
Of being a cowboy
And lovin' in a cowboy way
Worryin' my mother
And troublin' my father
When I kicked the cupboard doors outa the way.
I grew up dreamin
Of being a cowboy
And lovin' in a cowboy way
Worryin' my mother
And troublin' my father
When I kicked the cupboard doors outa the way.
We all revise history in our own favour
So, with your revision for you
And my revision for me
We should probably
Come to the truth.
If you are going to walk all over my heart, baby,
the least you can do is take off your shoes.
How can you hate me so much,
when we were once hopelessly in love?
It’s such a shame
We speak different languages
We miss small niceties,
Sitting at two tables alone.
His lovely turn of phrase, with a wink
Italian, I think.
He said something nice,
I am sure,
But I will never really know.
His smile, his gentle eyes,
Gave it away, in kind.
His grey hair, with a wave,
His pasta and wine,
His bow-tie divine.
His olive skin with lines.
My shrug,
His look resigned.
If you can’t get yourself
Into the city, you have always known
Treat yourself to lunch,
Like you always have
And get yourself home again,
On your own
Let’s face it,
It is time to die.
Peanut butter fills the cracks
Of a broken heart,
On your really bad days
Cheesecake can be used as glue.
Never kiss a man in a canoe
Nothing good can come of it for you
Over shoot, and you’ll easily get wet.
Let go of his fishing rod. Smoke a cigarette
We’re so bored with our lives
We are scribbling all over ourselves
I’m not sure if it is for individuality
Or self-loathing and disgusted
Tell me the thing you regret?
It’s not that I wish we’d met
Any time before we did
But what did we do waiting there?
I can’t remember life before you and me
It seems strange to contemplate
Haven’t I always known your face
Sitting there filling up my space?
Haven’t I always known you
It feels that way to me
What were we before we met
Is that what you regret?
I understand you
Now that I am your age
As I sit on the edge of the bed
In the night, it dawns on me
That you were really quite young
When your husband died
And you lived the rest of your life
Alone
Religion is like a virus,
But unlike AIDS
And the homos plight,
There is no cure in sight
Death is such a weird thing
It is possibly considered the most import thing in your life,
Although you are the person it affects the least.
God almighty, how can it be a choice?
to go against everything that is right? And Good?
The all powerful? It is not logical.
“How could ‘they’ have been made in his image"
“just like you and me, it can’t be right,”
says the god-botherer with a snarl.
“It has to be a choice, because only then can “we”
justify our beliefs, only then can we go on
on our journey of ‘us’ being right.
All god’s creatures, they can’t be one of them.
It doesn’t hold up, what we learned on Sunday,
what my mother and her mother and her mother before.
What they believed, it makes it all a joke.
Those queers are the work of the devil, we know,
we believe that, it has to be true. No, it can’t be a choice.
We don’t believe it. And our belief is god.
The good book says so, when we read it
our way. And our way is right. We know.
"It’s not a choice, that we make. No.
it is our way of life. We believe. We believe.
It is not our choice to make." No, it is not.
You know it is very sad
that religious types deny us our lives
they are still trying it on, even today
because it suits their narrative on gay.
Don't you wish they'd take their chosen beliefs
and just go away. Enjoy their dogma
in the quiet of somewhere else.
I hear people say, "Thank you Jesus,"
and I think mental disease,
but I don't try and change their lives
because of it. I don't try and change the world
because I think they are raving mad.