N.O. - Lambchop

This is not new orleans 
No party in my head 
I want to take a bottle 
From the barroom to my bed 
I want to know the flavor 
Feel the stinging on my tongue 
See the scattered dumbness 
Of another evening left undone 

This is not poetry 
This is depravity 
This is an outrage 
This is unsavory 
I am escaping 
My home trappings 
It takes an old man 
To bend a sapling 

Do not wait 
Do not ponder 
What goes on here 
Goes on up yonder 
Ghastly mask 
Shape undone 
A human pile 
Of hair and come 

This wicked man 
Has become unwise 
A silhouette 
Between her thighs 
We are now going 
We are not growing 
Anymore, anymore 

Wipe your mouth 
The bottle's empty 
Urinate upon the tree 
Into the lake 
You threw the house key 
Your mistake 
Their morality 

Sleeps with the fishes 
Dirty dishes 
There lays the vessel 
On its side 

Sleeps with the fishes 
Dirty dishes 
There lays the vessel 
On its side