Fog Dog - Porches

Today I was good at the city

Today I made some money

See mommy?

Today I kissed a real beauty

She was a painting she was glowing

She was Santa Fe and roughed up copper

A real wrist-knocker

A teenager next to an ash tray

Under a grand piano they laid

And nostrils flared as they misbehaved

David he played us a silent fugue

Ears stuffed with flowers while Joe Joe cruised

And Duncan stirred though nothing was heard

And I thought I saw your face in the fog

But it was just the fog

Oh my god

The fruits were all cold

The fruits were all cold

The fruits were all cold

The fruits were all cold

And swelling

They put a hard face to soft sleep

Pillowy

Oh daddy

I’m seventeen

Well aren’t all we