Sage Francis - Got Up This Morning lyrics

Sage: It's not that what we're doing is wrong But let's try to keep this a secret Between me, you, and the song A menage a trois that sings to me Sinfully When god plays along Jolie Holland: What you want with a woman who won't do what you say? Sage: I was sweet on her She was sweet on Jesus We slept with a blanket barrier between us Master of her craft, I had her laughin like hyenas When I asked her if she'd marry an elitist Staggering genius in lace With the grace of a drunken monk The mask isn't seamless cause her face says something's up But I don't dare ask her I just listen Switchin to my good ear and adjusting my position As she discusses Ginsberg I listened and learned As she dispersed his words I just resisted the urge to do like he would Whatever he wanted, if she allowed me to She dangled that carrot then asked me: "What would Bukowski do?" Oh don't go there He'd make you his mom and then completely lie about it in a book later on Jolie Holland: Got up this morning Didn't know right from wrong Sage: Spirits were lifted when she whispered something French in my ear Tension was there When I responded in English it sounded less sincere The s** in the air couldn't be left alone So welcome to the Terrordome A bedroom full of pheromones Where nothing that we say is set in stone If I thought it was for posterity I'd already be writing better poems But I'm talking in extremes Best this and best that Best not regret anything that ever gets said to this hell cat Creepin on all fours Ready for combat With secretive wars sneaking her claws in our contract Bending every which way but loose with no proof that anything that we've suggested to this day is the whole truth Jolie Holland: Got up this morning Didn't know right from wrong Sage: I heard her chemical romance was a medical slowdance Said my advance was s**ual Held my genitals with cold hands Set up the Coke cans Broke out the Red Ryder Then one by one I tried to knock down everything that's dead inside her She used to treat street dividers like a balance beam Arms spread wider than the legs in her dad's magazine Re-enacting the pages that she got trapped between I used it for kindling and then spilled the gasoline Now I'm your water boy I fetch it from your cheeks just like tennis balls Smell the stench of your weakness on the bedroom walls Somebody careless let em vaporize "Who let these fall to the floor from your poor vacant eyes?" Disintegrate This ain't a great first impression But I work better on pages, they say words are my profession Let me spell it out in simple language Plain English I want your suicide to be a book of mine that I never finish Jolie Holland: Got up this morning Didn't know right from wrong What you want with a woman who won't do what you say?