Nonfiction - The Black Crowes

I don’t know my telephone number

But you kiss good and I’d like to See you tomorrow

And I don’t beg, I pay, I don’t barter

And if we had a child I’d like a son,

Not a daughter

'Cause she’d be just like you

You know that would not do

I’m no builder, I’m no gardener

I sing some songs, have a friend

Who’s a photographer

There ain’t no other language

I know how to speak

Some like their water shallow

And I like mine deep

Tied to the bottom

With a noose around my feet

The clouds conspire

Above my head

I overheard them

Say I wish he was dead

Today the sunset

Burned my eyes

And in the next room I hear someone cry

I like to dress up like the jury

To eat like a king, to poke fun at clergy

To talk like dirt

To love yo like tar

But never fall in too fast

With my north star

While you pull your hair out

I buy the drinks at the bar