Sleep little angel
Dry your sad eyes
I'm here to watch over you
Love never dies
No one will hurt you
Or take you away
I'm here to protect you
My love stronger each day
So sleep precious angel
There's nothing to fear
I am here gently holding you
Keeping you near
My scent is your comfort
Your warmth from my heart
I'm right here beside you
We'll never part
Now sleep beautiful angel
I never saw your eye's
I felt you move inside me
But never heard your cries
I sit and silently hold you
My heart full of pain
My angel born sleeping
Till we meet again

Alone she sits in her chair
Watching the world pass her by
A cigarette at her mouth
A weariness in her eye
Her face lined and gaunt
Her body a small frame
Every line tells a story
But who is to blame
Her children never visit
No one seems to care
For this poor lonely woman
Sat alone in her chair
Her story unknown
Was she a wife
Did she get her knowledge
From its a hard knock life
Was she a beauty
Or a woman of the night
Did she lie down and die
Or put up a fight
No one seems bothered
They don't seem to care
For this poor lonely woman
Alone in her chair
It is such a pity
Would be a surprise
To learn that this woman
Is worldily wise
But she's simply forgotten
Now she's seen better day's
Social abandonment
Instead of pure praise
Her body now fraile
Greyness in her hair
This poor lonely lady
Alone in her chair

The door went ‘ping’
and you walked in,
making jaws drop,
making hearts pop.

There’s no kernel of doubt
I’d like to take you out.
You’re a butter-kissed delight
and you’ll taste just right.

I’m sweet for you,
I’ll be a treat for you;
and if you’re not salty,
I won’t be faulty.

This is corny – I know that –
But it’ll be worth getting fat.
**** my diet and my waistline;
Let’s cheat death one tub at a time.

I should not have blamed only my father, but,
he was the first to introduce me to
raw and stupid hatred.
he was really best at it: anything and everything made him
mad-things of the slightest consequence brought his hatred quickly
to the surface
and I seemed to be the main source of his
irritation.
I did not fear him
but his rages made me ill at heart
for he was most of my world then
and it was a world of horror but I should not have blamed only
my father
for when I left that... home... I found his counterparts
everywhere: my father was only a small part of the
whole, though he was the best at hatred
I was ever to meet.
but others were very good at it too: some of the
foremen, some of the street bums, some of the women
I was to live with,
most of the women, were gifted at
hating-blaming my voice, my actions, my presence
blaming me
for what they, in retrospect, had failed
at.
I was simply the target of their discontent
and in some real sense
they blamed me
for not being able to rouse them
out of a failed past; what they didn't consider was
that I had my troubles too-most of them caused by
simply living with them.

I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even
stupidly happy almost without cause
and left alone I am mostly content.

but I've lived so often and so long with this hatred
that
my only freedom, my only peace is when I am away from
them, when I am anywhere else, no matter where-
some fat old waitress bringing me a cup of coffee
is in comparison
like a fresh wild wind blowing.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

she was hot, she was so hot
I didn't want anybody else to have her,
and if I didn't get home on time
she'd be gone, and I couldn't bear that-
I'd go mad. . .
it was foolish I know, childish,
but I was caught in it, I was caught.
I delivered all the mail
and then Henderson put me on the night pickup run
in an old army truck,
the **** thing began to heat halfway through the run
and the night went on
me thinking about my hot Miriam
and jumping in and out of the truck
filling mailsacks
the engine continuing to heat up
the temperature needle was at the top
HOT HOT
like Miriam.
leaped in and out
3 more pickups and into the station
I'd be, my car
waiting to get me to Miriam who sat on my blue couch
with scotch on the rocks
crossing her legs and swinging her ankles
like she did,
2 more stops. . .
the truck stalled at a traffic light, it was hell
kicking it over
again. . .
I had to be home by 8,8 was the deadline for Miriam.
I made the last pickup and the truck stalled at a signal
1/2 block from the station. . .
it wouldn't start, it couldn't start. . .
I locked the doors, pulled the key and ran down to the
station. . .
I threw the keys down. . .signed out. . .
your ******* truck is stalled at the signal,
I shouted,
Pico and Western. . .
. . .I ran down the hall,put the key into the door,
opened it. . .her drinking glass was there, and a note:

  sun of a *****:
  I waited until 5 after ate
  you don't love me
  you sun of a *****
  somebody will love me
  I been wateing all day
  
  Miriam

I poured a drink and let the water run into the tub
there were 5,000 bars in town
and I'd make 25 of them
looking for Miriam
her purple teddy bear held the note
as he leaned against a pillow
I gave the bear a drink, myself a drink
and got into the hot
water.