Sunday, November 25, 2007

Cigarette #3: Wait, Morrissey's Catholic? Is there anybody left who isn't?

Outside the library again
MUSIC: "Piss Factory," Patti Smith
I was a moral school girl, hard-working asshole, I figured I was speedo motorcycle, had to earn my dough.
Floor boss slides up to me and he says, "Hey sister, you just movin' too fast, you screwin' up the quota,
You're doing your piecework too fast. Now, you get off your mustang, sally. You ain't goin' nowhere, you ain't goin' nowhere."
I lay back, I get my nerve up. I take a swig of Romilar and walk up to hot-shit Dot Hook and I say,
"Hey, hey sister it don't matter whether I do labor fast or slow, there's always more labor after."
She's real Catholic, see. She fingers her cross and she says, "There is one reason. There's one reason. You do it my way or I push your face in.
We knee you in the john if you don't get off your get off your mustang, sally, if you don't shape it up baby." Shake it up, baby, twist & shout.
Oh, that I could will a radio here, James Brown singing "I Lost Someone," or the Jesters and the Paragons,
And Georgie Woods, the guy with the goods and guided missiles,
But no, I got nothin', no diversion, no window, nothing here but a porthole in the plaster
Where I look down, look at sweet Theresa's convent, all those nurses, all those nuns scatting around with their blue hoods like cats in mourning.
Oh, to me they, you know, to me they look pretty damn free down there, the way they smell.
And here I gotta be up here smelling Dot Hook's midwife sweat. I would rather smell the way boys smell. . .
Next to Dot Hook, yeah, we look the same, both pumping steel, both sweating, but you know she's got nothing to hide,
And I got something to hide here called desire, I got something to hide here called desire. . .

They say that Morrissey used to walk around with a copy of these lyrics in his pocket.

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