One hundred tiny skulls
are scratched in the plaster above my bed.
I can count them over and over and over.
I can count them one hundred times
and there will always be
one hundred tiny skulls,
skulls scratched into the plaster over my bed.
My girlfriend has one hundred tiny skulls
tattooed against her thigh
and I can follow them
from one to ninety-nine
and find #100
there inside the soft shell of her cunt.
I've got one hundred tiny skulls
inside my head
and each one
is the one
I wish I am
when I wish I am
one of one hundred.
One hundred tiny skulls made of sugar
dissolve so quickly.
Where the heck do they go?
Well, they make a kind of paste and
I've got a bunch of it in my pocket right now.