a jealous actress
a creature rabbit
a bear turned into a smoking jacket
your wish became ours
this dust became stars
and you put on your dinner in the car
it's a dangerous habit

a hurdy gurdy
plays soft and dirty
your frozen dress looks so damn purty
your wish became ours
and we swallowed stars
whilst we heard you crumple in your car
the coroner cries curtly

this is my movie
that's how it should be
I want my grips going home to wedding nights
and my actors to worm filled beds
this is my movie
that's how it should be
if I want to film real life I wouldn't have
made death my profession

a sad humoresque
ana Junoesque
it's your computer, shit on your desk
a silent movie
for those who can't see
limes in the irises stalk the ivy
the coroner cries deftly:

this is my movie
that's how it should be
I want my grips going home to wedding nights
and my actors to worm filled beds
this is my movie
that's how it should be
if I want to film real life I wouldn't have
made death my profession

be my jealous actress
be my basket habit
by my trickster rabbit
I just have to have it . . . .