Testo All of her favorite fruit Cracker

All of her favorite fruit

I drive alone, home from work
And I always think of her
Late at night I call her
But I never say a word
And I can see her squeeze the phone
between her chin and shoulder
And I can almost smell her breath
faint with a sweet scent of decay

She serves him mashed potatoes
And she serves him peppered steak, with corn
Pulls her dress up over her head
Lets it fall to the floor
And does she ever whisper in his ear
all her favorite fruit

And all the most exotic places they are cultivated
And I'd like to take her there,
rather than this train
And if I weren't a civil servant,
I'd have a place in the colonies
We'd play croquet behind white-washed walls
and drink our tea at four
Within intervention's distance of the embassy
The midday air grows thicker with the heat
And drifts towards the line of trees
When negroes blink their eyes,
they sink into siesta
And we are rotting like a fruit
underneath a rusting roof
We dream our dreams
and sing our songs of love's fecundity
Of life and love
Of life and love
Of life and love