House Wife, Part One

We paint our houses at night.
The colors never match up right.
We never give a lock of our hair.
We fuck too much, we don't care.

And too many picture frames on your wall.
Too many picture frames on your wall.

Christmas farts in my head,
like all those nights you were in my bed.
Like all those secret holes we shared,
quilts out of skin, bones left bare.

Too many picture frames on your wall.
And too many picture frames on your wall.

Can I be your housewife?
Can I be your housewife?
Can I be your housewife?
Can I be your housewife?
Can I be your housewife?
Don't be late for dinner