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• Artiste: Mother Hips
• Titre: Hot Lunch
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No one knows what I do in my room with my girl and she won't tell you. Sometimes she tells me mellow lies, when her tongue is not inside my head. I talk in terms of "he" and "she" to avoid the nerves of "me" and "we". She talks in terms of love and of some things that I thought that I'd risen above. and one of us here is a pervert and one of us here is a child and everybody can only be themselves. I used to have dreams I made love to my cat, is it shockiing for me to tell you that? I might tell you more buy you might walk away and I don't feel like eating alone. Daddy, he has to work all day and mommy and baby just watch. After all, every living creature on earth wants a hot lunch. One of us here is a guillotine and one of us here is your neck and everybody can only be themsleves.