peek-a-boo

i know it's a craze
but in soft summer hazes
the lazy have nothing to do
i'll stop by the shop
where the bikes are all chopped
and i'll stay there an hour or two
then i'll go for a beer
and i'll tell them all "here
is the place on my arm where it's done"
it's a rose
and who knows
if it all goes okay
who's to say if i'll stop at just one

i'll go home and groan as i sit there alone
"what is this that i've done to my skin?"
perhaps i was fated to buy inline skates
maybe i'm not cut out to fit in
the guys at the bull still all seem unimpressed
whenever i'm cycling by
though i roll up my sleeve there's no way to deceive
i perceive all the scorn in their eyes

the money i spent
could have gone towards rent
or purchased a second hand amp
there's just nothing for it
i'll try to ignore it
it could have been made with a stamp
the pain i went through
just to get a tattoo
no, i don't think that i'll get another
but now that it's there
i'll pretend i don't care
and be glad that it doesn't say "mother"