Text: Tilt. Play Cell. Poor Infant.

I refuse, refuse to weaken my will, adhered here to glue to these =
neglected sheets, stranded on, abandoned on my own two feet, tenants of =
occupants of indifferent streets. Oh poor infant, you only took an =
instant, but now you're soaking in it, you're in for quite a ride, my =
poor little flopping on the griddle, still bloody in the middle. =
Conjuring, coaxing out my bravest face, suffer through, carreen through =
rooms of tired eyes, whining high, like an engine fed on spite, too much =
to take, too much luck, I dump the clutch every time. Through the womb, =

into this mess with me, it was no accident I had to have some company, =
through the membrane out you came, reluctantly sure, I bore you =
selflessly, but I had to have some company, company, company, company.
Submitted by: Mel