From the recording Shit (Outside Eden)

The accessory as weaponry...


I’ve got kinks all up and down my spine, my chiropractor says I’m fine,
But my right shoulder sits too high, and it’s only getting worse
From all this weight I drag around, ten or twenty extra pounds
My private little “Lost-and-Found,” there’s too much shit in my purse.
The hairbrush and the cleansing cream, chocolate covered coffee beans,
Several shades of Maybelline, with names I don’t resist, like; Sunset Rose, or Peach Surprise,
Call it lingerie for lips and eyes.
All in handy pocket size, but there’s still too much shit in my purse.
The keys to my last three cars, the remote to my VCR that’s been missing for a week or more
And won’t work in reverse… motrin, bufferin, valium, condoms, bubble-gum,
Hits of Elvis, Volume One.  Too much shit in my purse.
Well, there’s endless possibilities; butterscotch, batteries,
Paperbacks I’ll never read, pens that never work.
It’s the big black hole of shoulder bags – what goes in will not come back –
It took three days to find my cat ‘cause there’s so much shit in my purse.
Matches, rolaids, one earring, rolls of quarters, Dramamine…
I’m prepared for anything – the best, and the worst.
Some guy once tried a sneak attack.  He grabbed my arm, but I fought back
Aimed for his head, and knocked him flat with all this shit in my purse.