The Dishwasher's Dream

Born with a face that life would erase
 I chased the frustrated wind to New York
 I fell in love with Monique during a Yanks winning streak
 And we danced to the popping of corks
 I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
 Of my dreams I did plant in the sink
 Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
 And I had too much time for to think
 Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play
 With my lover who slept through her blues
 As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
 While I struggled through my headaches and flus
 And my vision of a day when we could get away
 Seemed to sink into the suds of the soap
 That I used to make money that I spent on my honey
 For to keep her in Cheetos and dope
 One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
 I was beginning to fear for our life
 While the burners threw heat from out under the meat
 I lunged with the edge of a knife
 And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
 On the face of a China white plate
 I returned to a time when hope was our friend
 Instead of this bitch who we hate
 I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles
 The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
 And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
 I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre'd cried
 "Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher's mind"
 I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
 My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
 As I reached out to touch her sweet head
 And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place
 On the tip of my fingers I leaned
 Into her ear and told her no fear
 We're just having the same awful dream