all of your relations are milking stones,
you find squeezing is so pleasing,
that wringing's your only way,

but you'll never get a drop from your milking stones,
just your callous and your malice,
and your deified decay,

milking stones for Monday,
there's an advantage to press,
so your weening down the one way,
in ceremonial undress,

you and your milking stones for Monday,
you'd be drinking every drop,
but you're just another stone,
that wasn't even piled on top,

(WOOOOO!!!....cramp,)

why you gotta treat me like a milking stone?
that endeavor's long been severed,
I'm not even your main squeeze,

now your raising up your flesh to be milking stones,
to pinion your dominion,
in a circle of harpies,

milking stone,
why you gotta treat me like a,
(squeeze...squeeze)
milking stone,
why you gotta treat me like a,

milking stones for Monday,
every heart throb is a hook,
that you've been barbing hoping someday,
you'll be given what you took,

and everyone owes you a bleeding,
so you're leech farming the sores,
and you set your claws a-kneading,
in the pittance of my pores,

(WOOOOO!!!...cramp...)

Milking Stones For Monday

i bore to you a houndly frolic,
every rise and fall,
my backwords barkened by the rollick,
unheedy my call,

you gouged my grip, in scented slip,
for every phantom sniff,
and all that was, was lost because,
of wandering what if,

I bore to you a houndly frolic,
every fall and rise,
where winter whittled worry,
and unheedy went my cries,

your absence cast my echo,
in collide-a-scope collapse,
and all that is, was fleeting fizz,
for petulant perhaps,

so you tottered in a circle broken,
down on widdershins,
to engrave what must be left unspoken,
save by bitter grins,
upon the insides of my eyelids,
whence now even shorn and shuttered,
doth the vision of derision,
that the bitter grins have muttered,
cast it's kindling, sharp and spindling,
on the clenching of sightlesson,
so I'm sealing every feeling,
just to keep my keep from guessing,

Milking Stones For Monday

Gay Science Obituary