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