Snakes

You set the snakes loose inside my belly.
They’re done with my supper,
They start on my endocrine lining.
You said, «Please stop your wining!»
This isn’t a love song.
I’m through writing those for you.
All the while you claimed
The ghost in you lives, but it’s dead
It’s inside my head
And all that I know is that it’s midnight
And you haven’t called.
Oh, when you sigh, and you cry,
I figure you probably lie
And I’m here waiting.
And all I can see, if there’s anyone fooled
Then it’s probably me and I’m here waiting.
And all that I know is that it’s midnight
And you haven’t called.
And all that I know is that it’s midnight
And you haven’t called.