Go home

[lizsterine]

Keep your hat on, stranger,
I need not see your face.
You are to me but nothing,
only interest, only cash.

Do your business, hurry up;
I haven't got all day.
You paid an hour, eight-to-nine;
It's already eight-fifteen.

Will you touch me? no, not you.
After all, you're just a boy.
What are you doing down here,
anyway? Go home to your mother.

Now you touch, you rip and scratch,
That's more like it, I want out.
You do what you will and me?
I just want to escape your stare.

You're done, it's eight forty-five.
Your ugly hat sits still on your fat head.
A couple bills you leave for me,
crumpled, dirty on the floor.

I watch you go, just a boy,
a boy of thirty years.
Go home, go home to your wife
To your children so they aren't me.