The Bitch Box Blues

Don’t walk your dog within a mile of my door
Pee-mails tell stories of wantonness and desperation.

For the next four weeks I won’t be around,
I’ll be in the bitchbox with Mardy and Medlar,
Don’t walk your dog within a mile of my door,
Pee-mails tell stories of desperation and wantonness.

When they finally stop spotting they’ll be humping each other,
My legs, my arms, the smell of randy bitch seeps through the house,
The Oban town dogs howl and chase me through the car parks,
The word is out, I’m ran out of town.

Don’t walk your dog within a mile of my door,
Pee-mails tell stories of wantonness and desperation,
We are confined to the bitch box.
It is irresponsible to take my randy bitches within a mile of your door.
Pee-mails tell stories of wantonness and desperation.

My bitches expose themselves behind the French glass doors,
Town dogs.
Farm dogs,
Sophisticated elegant dogs,
Small dogs,
Big dogs,
Rough dogs,
Smooth dogs,
Howl, pant, and pee while my bitches expose and perform
Don’t walk your dogs within a mile of my doors.
Our bitch box is surrounded by wantonness and desperation.

At night in the moonlight we swim in the cold seas
To chill the heat and the need that seeps out from the Bitch Box Blues,
Don’t walk your dog within a mile of my door,
Or you’ll be trapped by the Bitch Box Blues for ever.

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