summer cold, lemon tea and honey and not smart enough to stay in bed
Lyrics
if they be lemons, make some lemonade
if they be reptiles, then maybe gatorade
tastes of invention, like tears and blood and sweat
forked tongue in white sauce, grilled until forget
to realize that not everything is well done
to realize that, nor is everyone
so useless when the flesh has grown to weak,
to turn to this, or to another cheek
