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But God

de Hefner

I'm tired of boys
Who fight with girls
And stain their sheets

And girls who tell
Stories of boys
And graze their knees

And where did you get?
To smell so sweet?
Is that sweetness for me?

And where did I find?
These eyes that I found?
They will surely let me down

And your hair stops short of a line which starts at your neck
And flows over your collarbone down to your breast
Where my hand lies ever so gently

And my hand starts to move down your stomach
And in between those thighs
To a soft warm place I call home
And may god protect your home

There's a lady who cries
And builds a shrine
To her miscarried child

And a small boy who cries
And cries and cries
And cries and cries

I see these sights
Through the sleepiest eyes
And a heart so contentedly wise and tired

And now I bathe in the light
Of the most beautiful heavenly angel
This side of the sun

And your hair stops short of a line which starts at your neck
And flows over your collarbone down to your breast
Where my hand lies ever so gently

And my hand starts to move down your stomach
And in between those thighs
To a soft warm place I call home
And may god protect your home

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