Quiet Husband Richie Culver

Pray for me

Six bottles of piss stand like trophies next to this sofa that I call a bed

Leave your keys on the table and don’t come home

That was all she wrote

I can’t read and I’ve never been on a plane

So ignorance is bliss in a mind like this

A methadone-like haze drifts in from there

I’ll reply later

I’d rather be broke than skint

I’d rather be rich than dead

In this sunken cavity in which I dwell

No prescription needed
No advice wanted

The lights were too bright
Just like they warned me

Time after time they warned me

Underground flower what’s your name

The light at the end is a flame

The piss in the bottles overflow

Time goes slow

It’s gonna be a good Christmas this year

Our year

Credit card  fraud on the hottest day of the year

There’s been a white van parked outside my Mothers house all year

Quiet
Quiet

Keeping quietness at bay

I believe in God when things are going my way

My way

Frank Sinatra
My way

Play it at my funeral

But it’s the voice inside my heads way

It’s always been that way

Never been my way

Would you cry if I died
Would you come to my funeral and cry again
again and again
again and again

I wanna eat at those posh restaurants that let you pay at the end