The Tobacconist On The Lake Isle

Oh God, oh Jesus, oh dammit all--
gimme one of them poet apartments
with thick books that nobody reads
covered in weed on the floor
and the Lou Reed records nobody listens to
and the cheap red wine stains on the chair
and a guitar with three strings
and bohemian lovers passed out on the couch
with his cock on her thigh.

Oh God, oh Jesus, Virgin fuckin’ Mary,
gimme that damn apartment
because I hate this shitty job,
and I’ll give it up now
just so I don’t have to do any work
besides telling you about myself.