Stray Dog

At night your grandmother dies on a bed of chamomile
 And the Virgin Mary stuck her head out from the wall, it scared you
 So you cried by floral bedside until the telephone rang in the next room
 It was six-six-six from a soldier who was hysterical on a toilet seat
 And you could tell he was good-looking just by the way that he would speak
 And you both sob like little cherries being crushed between my fingers
 
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 I drop the pits on tile floors and they echo like a tongueless mouth
 Oh, I tried to speak, I swear to God, I wish I were your stray dog
 Eating scraps of meat you gave me because you saw my ribs and I was dirty
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 Eating scraps of meat you gave me because you saw my ribs and I was dirty
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 Oh, I wish I were your stray dog, roaming aimlessly around the city