All the women in me
are tired.
Guitars hang in tropes
on buried branches.
My acid tongue is always
paying for that banter, baby.
I'm sorry for the results
of a lot of things.
I am a liar,
but I am not full of shit.
I've been so many places,
but your rough lips were enough.
So find me in unlucky
as always.
And catch me in the middle,
with a new scar on my nose.