| You Can Buy Friends |
|---|
| A squat greek sips his ouzo |
| fingering his gold neck chain |
| robust corn-fed american beauties |
| lick the salty rim of margaritas |
| in the corner lies a comatose musician |
| dreaming on the job again |
| you can’t buy love |
| but you can buy friends |
| upon her breast a shiny crucifix |
| holier than me i guess |
| sheds friends like a snake sheds skin |
| her laughter sounds so venomous |
| in his corner lies the once proud musician |
| thinking on the job again |
