we are the high street service trays
  coming to take you away
  pasadena 1968
  with speed on your breakfast plate
  aunt cancer calls them happy pills
  they keep her calm and cool until he leaves
  the moccasin skin obsession leather thigh
  white tennis skirt so high
  the eyes of mine are new and kind
  but the hair's not grey, it's white
  and grandfather's an ascot noose
  can't tie the tassels on his shoes
  leave me
  these are the red-eyed politics
  the cocktail revisionists
  war room rules: no wives or kids
  here men sing the boy in them
  the hedge casts heroes late across our lawn
  the valley hunt militiamen, all gone
  thought we had the lock in '54
  now the maid owns the house next door
  and what's more
  swims in the pool she used to clean
  our new king looks like a queen
  leave me
  oh god stop tearing off the roof
  of my experimental bathroom
  it's the only thing that's halfway mine
  and not for your prying and lying eyes
  the empire's melting like ice cream
  on the altar of the sun
  this skin we've stretched for centuries
  it's faded, it's fraying, it's meaningless to me