A Hymn For The Coffee

Bless the coffee that passes between her lips

‘cause the caffeine gives the woman a nervous twitch

When she crossed those big white thighs, what I saw could hardly have been intended

And her skirted suit it implies to me

She should not chastise so callously

As the woman who shared my bed and wiped my brow for the past three years

And my true love don't drink her coffee like her

Don't wear lipstick like her

My true love, she is cursed

And my true love don't swing her hips like her

Not got those sassy curls

My true love, she is cursed

Hope the morning coffee does the trick

Hope it clears my mind makes the day more worth it

Cause the devil in me and the deep blue sea are entwined as on since that girl winked at me