By Martha Wainwright, Got your hand up all in my shirt
And you know
By Martha Wainwright, Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore
And
By Martha Wainwright, Summer comes and rain falls away
But the very next day
By Martha Wainwright, These are not my people, I should never have come
By Martha Wainwright, Far away, in some lovely way I hear your call
Whatever
By Martha Wainwright, Catch a feel or cop a ride
I won't be late,
By Martha Wainwright, My brother, my sister, my lover, my maker
Did someone here
By Martha Wainwright, These flowers are coming up wild
They're coming up, they're coming
By Martha Wainwright, This, this life
Is boring
This, this life
Right now is snoring
That's all
By Martha Wainwright, I'm not such a good lover
I'm a better talker
So when
By Martha Wainwright, Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
Hunger
By Martha Wainwright, Left the pain before the dawn
She never thought it would