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Marah
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The Dishwasher's Dream
Born with a face that life would erase
I chased the frustrated wind to New York
I fell in love with Monique during a Yanks winning streak
And we danced to the popping of corks
I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
Of my dreams I did plant in the sink
Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
And I had too much time for to think
Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play
With my lover who slept through her blues
As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
While I struggled through my headaches and flus
And my vision of a day when we could get away
Seemed to sink into the suds of the soap
That I used to make money that I spent on my honey
For to keep her in Cheetos and dope
One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
I was beginning to fear for our life
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While the burners threw heat from out under the meat
I lunged with the edge of a knife
And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
On the face of a China white plate
I returned to a time when hope was our friend
Instead of this bitch who we hate
I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles
The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre'd cried
'Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher's mind'
I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
As I reached out to touch her sweet head
And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place
On the tip of my fingers I leaned
Into her ear and told her no fear
We're just having the same awful dream
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