Tavern

 

I'll keep a little tavern
   Below the high hill's crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
   May set them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty,
   And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
   Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveler,
   And dream his journey's end,
But I will rouse at midnight
   The falling fire to tend.

Aye, 'tis a curious fancy—
   But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
   A long time ago.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Lonely Days, Lonely Nights

                                                         Where would I be without my woman?

Mr. Jones And Me

 

                                                    Yeah, everybody wants to pass as cats.

                                                     Because something is happening here

                                                            But you don't know what it is
                                                                  Do you, Mister Jones?

Hamburger Ads! - Pop Up In My Head

 

We're Finally On Our Own

 

                                                         The rich must profit and get richer

                                                              And the poor must stay poor.

What's Old Is New

 When you idle at the stoplight

You better get the signal right.

Le Chat

 Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;

Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.

When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,

In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,

And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.

Charles Baudelaire