Liz Marney

Who are you to make demands 

        three girls 

                 two grams 

too old to die young 

You tell me you can be alone 

                     you can drink alone 

      you can think alone 

             but you think you want to take me with you 

You think you walk around 

      with morbid finesse 

             decisive      decadent 

not morbidly obsessed 

Greying hair glinting against 

     psychedelic lights 

           fingers creeping away 

                  from the decks

 towards unsuspecting thighs

You tell me you can be alone 

                     you can drink alone 

      you can think alone 

              but you think you want to take me with you 

Turning up half-cut to the school run 

      are you feeling proud 

saying who’s your daddy now 

      to the wrong baby girl 

are you feeling proud? 

You tell me you can be alone 

        you can be alone 

            you can be alone 

     but you think you want to 

            take me

                  with you.