Spit

from Three Weeks No Songs by Gregory and the Hawk

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lyrics

You put your hands on your hips
In the last sliver of the moon
Your goodbye’s sh--
I can almost taste your spit

I wouldn’t mind if you came to my castle

Building it brick by brick
Beneath a giant yellow sickle
On a charcoal cliff
I can almost taste your spit

I wouldn’t mind if you tried all my tunes

My kingdom for you
Tracking patterns while she waxes
Hope you’ll be here soon
I can almost taste your spit
I wouldn’t mind if you talked to me nice

You put the glass to your lips
Basking in a grown cocoon
My potions give you lift
When I mix them with your spit