More bossa than nova
More tango than tang
She starts with a whimper
And builds to a bang

She’s a yellow egg noodle
A fattening dish
The need of the needle
The sign of the fish

A pop, a top, a tart, a dart
That pierces not quite to the heart
A rave, a wave, a miss, a dis
That sells itself out loud like this

She mostly gets over
And always gets high
Her crooning’s corrosive
Like June in July

She carves like a chicken
Throws like a knife
Cooks like a kitchen
Lives like a life

A wisp of steam, a queen, a pawn
That you can’t put your finger on
A battle pitched with spitball swords
You win, but then you lose the war
You win, but then you lose the war

As heavy as heaven
As loony as June
Unlucky as seven
And blue as the moon

She’s a rudderless gusher
A colorless tone
That you hear in the clear
When you’re stoned and alone

A pop, a top, a tart, a dart
That pierces not quite to the heart
A rave, a wave, a miss, a dis
That sells itself out loud like this

A wisp of steam, a queen, a pawn
That you can’t put your finger on
A battle pitched with spitball swords
You win, but then you lose the war
You win, but then you lose the war
You win but then you lose the
You lose
Win but then you lose the war