Barbara Hershey Type

The sun hits the dipping roofs
Like the needle hits the record grooves
Yeah, I spend my morning sicky and miserable, alone
Baby, I can’t believe you’re just one syllable
But then again, so is «love» and so is «life»
I’m going out tonight, but don’t worry
I’m not going to change into a snake
And take out all the model progenitors I can
(Even though I can)
Like Kanye West, half commodity and half man
With an SNL sketch lifespan
Up in Mark’s apartment
The street air was blowing on the back of my neck
It was a balmy night and a Barbara Hershey type
Was too stoned to text
Oh well, my dear
I wish you were here
With your humbling glance
When I get back
It’s tanning booth blue skies
Baby, I won the prize-fight
It was a knock out in five
I had a dream I stopped a girl
Kissing me on the mouth
Oh, I’m so Georgie Porgie
Even subconsciously