Bird on a Wire

Are you hoping to get out of this mess
Truckloads of coffee, conditioned to confess
You’re a bird on a wire
And you’re wrestling
Who’s dirty laundry are you turning out fresh
Little miss bossy is brimming with breast
You’re a bird on a wire
And you’re wrestling
No station is final
Popping the pricks and the pins
Are you stopping to smell the good sins
Are you stopping to lift the good dress
Geriatric at 20 years old
Break like a matchstick as soon as you’re told
You’re a bird on a wire
And you’re wrestling
No station is final
Don’t do what I do
(You're rotting now)
«Yah whatever,» she said