Grace کے بول

Grace comes home drunk And beats on the door to my gut I fumble with locks til a wound opens And she falls in laughing Honey, I'm home Honey, I'm home I wince as she stumbles up my spine And leaves a trail of bruises on my ribs I choke on her dancing on my tongue Where she kicks out a tooth Honey, I'm home Honey, I'm home She smokes her cigarettes inside my head And blows all the smoke into my eyes Til one melts a tear and she sighs, Just what I thought Another fragile buddha