Delta40
06-04-2011, 07:37 PM
Talking about the past with myself
is like shaving grandma's legs
with that Phillips Ladyshave
I won from the Partridge Family.
The shearing blades seized up years ago
and after so many re-runs,
you just keep on gnashing its blunt teeth
across varicose veins again and again.
Why don't I twirl my fingers through
the curly wurly cord as if my name was Cindy
and remain a child instead?
Face it. The switch is faulty now
and won't yield the results you long for.
It splutters, coughs out clouds of
hair and old spice whiskers.
Nothing more.
I give my history the dullest short back and sides
then dot it with tissues to soak up the blood,
No moisturizer will ever smooth out these sharp bristles.
Or even the here and now.
is like shaving grandma's legs
with that Phillips Ladyshave
I won from the Partridge Family.
The shearing blades seized up years ago
and after so many re-runs,
you just keep on gnashing its blunt teeth
across varicose veins again and again.
Why don't I twirl my fingers through
the curly wurly cord as if my name was Cindy
and remain a child instead?
Face it. The switch is faulty now
and won't yield the results you long for.
It splutters, coughs out clouds of
hair and old spice whiskers.
Nothing more.
I give my history the dullest short back and sides
then dot it with tissues to soak up the blood,
No moisturizer will ever smooth out these sharp bristles.
Or even the here and now.