Jolie Holland, Sage Francis - Got Up This Morning lyrics

It's not that what we're doing is wrong
But let's try to keep this here secret
Between me, you, and the song
Ménage à trois that sings to me sinfully
When god plays along

What you want with a woman who
Won't do what you say?

I was sweet on her she was sweet on Jesus
We slept with a blanket barrier between us
Master of her craft
I had her laughin' like hyenas
When I asked her if she'd marry an elitist
Staggering genius in lace
With the grace of a drunken monk
The mask isn't seamless cause her
Face says something's up
But I don't dare ask her I just listen
Switchin' to my good ear
And adjusting my position
As she discuss Ginsberg I
Listened and learned
As she disperses his words I just resisted
The urge to do like he would
Whatever he wanted, if she allowed me to
She dangled that carrot then asked me:
"What would Bukowski do?"
Oh don't go there he'd make you his mom
And then completely lie
About it in a book later on

Got up this morning
Didn't know right from wrong

Spirit's were lifted when she whispered
Something French in my ear tension was there
When I responded in English
It sounded less sincere
The sex in the air couldn't be left alone
So welcome to the Terrordome
A bedroom full of pheromones
Where nothing that we say is set in stone
If I thought it was for posterity
I'd already be writing better poems
But I'm talking in extremes
Best this and best that
Best not regret anything that ever gets
Said to this hell cat creepin' on all fours
Ready for combat
With secretive wars sneaking her
Claws in our contract
Bending every which way but loose
With no proof that anything
That we've suggested to this day
Is the whole truth

I heard her chemical romance was
A medical slow dance
Said my advance was sexual
Held my genitals with cold hands
Set up the Coke cans broke out the Red Ryder
Then one by one I tried to knock
Down everything that's dead inside her
She used to treat street dividers
Like a balance beam
Arms spread wider than the legs
In her dad's magazine
Re-enacting the pages that she
Got trapped between
I used it for kindling and
Then spilled the gasoline
Now I'm your water boy
I fetch it from your cheeks
Just like tennis balls
Smell the stench of your weakness
On the bedroom walls
Somebody careless let em vaporize
"Who let these fall to the floor
From your poor vacant eyes?" disintegrate
This ain't a great first impression
But I work better on pages
They say words are my profession
Let me spell it out in simple language
Plain English
I want your suicide to be a book
Of mine that I never finish

Jolie Holland: Got up this morning
Didn't know right from wrong

What you want with a woman who
Won't do what you say?