Lyrics These Few Presidents - WHY?
At
your
house
The
smell
of
our
still-living
human
bodies
and
oven
gas
You
pray
to
nothing
out
loud
Two
first
names
and
an
ampersand
Embroidered
proudly
on
a
kitchen
towel
You're
a
beautiful
and
violent
work
With
the
skinny
neck
of
a
Chinese
bird
In
a
fading
ancient
painting
And
if
you're
in
heaven
waiting
You
made
it
there
fighting
The
tightest
kite
string
In
a
bad
storm
with
lightning
And
now
these
few
presidents
Frowning
in
my
pocket
Can
persuade
no
god
To
let
me
let
you
talk,
oh
These
few
presidents
Frowning
in
my
pocket
Can
persuade
no
god
To
let
me
let
you
off
Even
though
I
haven't
seen
you
in
years
Yours
is
a
funeral
I'd
fly
to
from
anywhere
I
thought
I
had
a
pebble
in
my
sock
I
pulled
it
off
and
shook
out
a
wasp
It
stumbled
out
lost
And
without
a
pause
Unstung
as
I
was
Still
I
stomped
it
I
thought,
there
is
no
my
paved
street
worthy
Of
your
perfect
Scandinavian
feet
Wha,
wha,
wha,
my
crooked
Chinese
fingers
groped
The
machinery
of
your
throat
And
now
these
few
presidents
Frowning
in
my
pocket
Can
persuade
no
god
To
let
me
let
you
talk,
oh
These
few
presidents
Frowning
in
my
pocket
Can
persuade
no
god
To
let
me
let
you
off
Even
though
I
haven't
seen
you
in
years
Yours
is
a
funeral
I'd
fly
to
from
anywhere
Attention! Feel free to leave feedback.