A poem turned rock song
Michael Jost Production
Sean Reynolds co-wrote music
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A friend of mine died of an overdose
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Who's to say why I play, with a poppy everyday?
Let's not worry for my follies
Nor for you'se, and your blow up dollies
I hafta sleep to be a creep
In your daughter's window, I peep then leap
I build a box, and then unpick locks
That thieves left behind amid those red rocks
I thought that I was there to remind you
Today I found out that you were dead
Four days unfound between your couch and bed
Your flowered vases were also dead & slumped over.
It was the morphine cherries of August
It was the morphine cherries the sun
Morphine cherries of August
I watched you come undone.
Your dead rat Ed's ghost was laughing and floating
Around outside your old front door
I hope you never felt like a whore
You were a helluva chaotic person like me
But with a cunt and tits you see
You topped off your speed sundae with a morphine cherry
You were the first girl that let me put it in her ass
You knew we’d both get off so fast
You could out drink me, out fuck me,
but you couldn't cook for shit.
It was the morphine cherries of August
It was the morphine cherries the sun
Morphine cherries of August
I watched you come undone.
I told you that your dream of being
a beautiful flight attendant was weak,
and thought-out poorly,
but who was I to lessen your aspirations,
and nullify your desires?
Now it's to late to apologize,
why couldn't I just agree with a smile?
And kiss you for wanting anything other
than what you already were.
I am a beast-man with tangled wolf fur
Your death is the downfall of my logic
Everything I've claimed superior is now inferior,
as you've been placed in the Earth's interior.
It was the morphine cherries of August
It was the morphine cherries the sun
Morphine cherries of August
I watched you come undone.
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