Polly was a weirdo, she liked to watch me sleep
She lived in a suitcase on the corner of my street
Polly was a danger, dangerous to herself
She had printed copies of the directions to hell
Polly wore her hair in ratty tatty buns
She poked herself with needles, her only way to run
Polly was a dreamer, she dreamed dreadful dreams
She never liked to talk about those awful things
Polly wrapped her lipstick in dollar store rubber bands
She counted Tuesday backwards on the palm of her left hand
Polly hated crackers, she never really ate
She dined on cotton swabs and self taught hate
Polly went to heaven at the age of thirty nine
She was a really good friend of mine