Sunday, June 25, 2006

263. Billy Wilson

Baby, let me drive your car,
let me drive you, honey,
it's so funny to come so far
in such a short time:
hey, ain't no crime,
basking in the neon in my flashy suit
and my twenty-seven dollar necktie,
guaranteed imitation
Thai silk. Pass the milk
and drink up your coffee, baby,
we gonna have ourselves some fun
before this day is done.
I like you, girl, but I just LOVE your machine,
tuned-up, growling, smooth, and clean.
I'm holding steady, rough and ready,
but I can sure be kind --
Yes, ma'am, wham-bam,
ya-hoo ... hey, you don't mind?
If I act like a prisoner on reprieve
it's because I got compassionate leave
(my grandmother died for the second time)
and very soon I gotta go back
to f**kin Iraq, shoot down
another two dozen ragheads
or get blown to sh**.
There ain't no sense in it.
They say there are 35 million
of these goddam people
and we sure as hell can't shoot them all.
We'd like to. Greasing is so easy,
and nobody don't say nothing.
What the hell, survive. Stay alive,
and blow them all to hell.
Might as well. Drop bombs from the air,
we don't care. Ay-rabs suck,
hey, what the f**k!!
Say, baby, you wanna get married
when I come home?
Just don't sell that car.
Or we could go to Vegas
and live in sin
at the Holiday Inn.

your daddy was a preacher
my mommy was a teacher
Damn, it's a great country,
you can't help but love it.