Dust In Your Pocket

When you're found,
In a maze,
Eager eyes on the milky haze,
Scampers round, heavy feet,
Spinny legs and hobbling knees,
Twitching tail and tongue-in-cheek,
She munches fruit from (??) trees,
Looking smug and fresh and pleased,
She wanders so sloppy and eats...

She puts her hands up to the sky,
She puts her hands up and she's icing in her lie,
She puts her hands up to the sky,
It makes her well up, it makes her well up.
She puts her hands up to the sky,
She puts her hands up and she's icing in her lie,
She puts her hands up to the sky,
It makes her well up, it makes her well up.

She feels a lick, down her nape,
It looks up with a fair glass face,
Peeling palms of dirty hands,
Jointed thumbs with drumstick ends,
Yellow nails from pinching fags,
A slimy creature lacking clad,
He pulls his fingers from her mind,
And lets her see, just like she was blind!

She puts her hands up to the sky,
She puts her hands up and she's icing in her lie,
She puts her hands up to the sky,
It makes her well up, it makes her well up.