Inamorata

Crying in the corner

Sobbing in a bath rove

Wadded in a puddle

Sad little sack in a room

If it leaves a foul taste

You can spice it up some

A little salt in the wound

Now isn't that better?

So far so so so

Miserable misery

Broken down blubbering

Slouching sullen pout face

Weeping pillow treatment

On the cold mean wet tile

Nothing to look forward to

You might bawl yourself dry

Howling tears at the moon

And flooding the gutter

So far so so so

Miserable misery