A Hymn For The Coffee

Bless the coffee that passes between her lips
‘cause the caffeine gives the woman a nervous twitch
When she crossed those big white thighs, what I saw could hardly have been
intended
And her skirted suit it implies to me
She should not chastise so callously
As the woman who shared my bed and wiped my brow for the past three years
And my true love don’t drink her coffee like her
Don’t wear lipstick like her
My true love, she is cursed
And my true love don’t swing her hips like her
Not got those sassy curls
My true love, she is cursed
Hope the morning coffee does the trick
Hope it clears my mind makes the day more worth it
Cause the devil in me and the deep blue sea are entwined as on since that girl
winked at me