peculiar minds
      ring in the silence
the dogs ear, the hogs
set up for breakfast 
    a line of strange 
    men outside the front
door only 
to lick the women
  whom confess to 
making love to
other men 

the table is set for 
dinner 
   the mice are away for
feeding
if anything comes of this 
mess, this disastrous mess
   you can let the farmer
hay the fields, you 
can suck the strange
right out of me, but
you can't hold 
   my soul anymore