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Beth Jeans Houghton
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Franklin Benedict
Roasting peppers in the backyard
The suns eclipse begins to lean and mask your unitard
And old convention lends a hand to understanding why
a spades a spade and I'm a goose, you cooked until my skin grew hard
You started elongating all your words
And imitating some intelligent guy you once heard
Donating knowledge to the bank of 'What the Hell'
will he be doing this time next year, if his assets don't begin to swell
You see that I've been falling
You see what I've been through
And you see that I've been calling,
for better or worse, but calling for you
I caught you framing Franklin Benedict
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And twice reversing all the First Class stamps that we once licked
Of token soldiers holding hands with all the dead, civilians
Stop taking chances with the ammunition in your pants
Turn your face as you get in the car
Embrace the power marching through your viscous jugular
And I'm not saying that I would but I just might
become the only foreign heart to state,
my dear you are my only verse
You see that I've been falling
And you see what I've been through
You see that I've been calling,
for better or worse, but calling for you
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