Lemuria
Bristles and Whiskers
He doesn't price his paintings before the canvas driesHis life is living colors like the ones in the skyOn the fourth of July, on the fourth of JulyYou can keep the closet door crackedLook outside and dodge accusing eyesAnd be yourself for the first timeBristles and whiskers and a broad jawline is the prizeEnjoy it now because at sunriseYour friends and family think you're a pervert contaminating their livesHe hides his dirty moviesHe kisses his wifeShe has a suspicion of his filthy desireThey don't make love, they fuckThey don't make love, they fuckAnd he assumes it's enoughThey both pretend to comeWith a common image of another man man filling them with loveHe lives his lifeShaving the whiskers that prickle his wifeShe's sitting in a pew praying to a father:He better purge that closet before the canvas dires
From Letras Mania