The Monologue Bombs - Whiskey in the Milk (Final Party)

Cacophony on Reaves Drive, horns out in the hall
Stallions twitch in the kitchen, Betty Pages play the wall
There's powder in your pocket--feel it burn, hear it call
But you're careful to keep the proper mix in
Billy's howling lonesome on a Honda Civic hood
He's sweating out the toxins and he sings so bad it's good
You shake the glitter out your hair to the pulsing of your blood
Heart of Kevlar, but you'll strain to get his fix in
Lovers so convincing, got their faces in their shoes
Ingrained as affectations, like the cigarettes you chew
It's whiskey in the milk, angel
You know it's so bad for you
Guitars in the stairwell as I follow Laura down
She leans like Catalano, manic panic by the pound
She pleads halitosis and drops me at the lost and found
Jonesing for a single-serve companion
So I take a run at Nikki Pale, all paint thinner and bones
Pat my coat for matches, seek ascension to the throne
She says, "You country boys are sweet, but so desperately prone
To lupine kisses and deliberate abandon."
I bet on winks and baubles just to come and set me free
Halfway to sotted silver, but damned if I can see
It's whiskey in the milk, sir
It's gonna be the death of me
We're so blind to the abundance, duck the sun at every turn
Those flashing neon portents so hard to discern
Unaware as Balthazar, feasting unconcerned
As that galloping sound grows ever nearer
Some day these hours we trash will be hoarded and maintained
The industries we'll navigate, the progenies we'll train
We'll outrun the low-rent habits and inherited pain
Till our parents all show up in the mirror
Beyond the creeping sunrise, the oracular scrawl
Choke down your blood of Christ now, as the ending credits crawl
It's whiskey in the milk, friends
You know it's gonna kill us all

Written by:
Scott Phillips

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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