A Life Of A Coathanger
'What is she wearing tonight my friend! 'How the hell do I know
I am always at the end, it's just my luck when she buys something
new, I get shoved to the end of the queue.It's all right for you my
friends you get a weekly check, but poor old me has to hang in
here by the neck.
If nothing goes right with her hair or her hide,
she chucks me in the wardrobe and locks me inside.
You live in drawers that are kept nice and fresh,
but I have to hold up her smelly old dress.
That perfume she uses just makes me gag
and you should smell the tobacco when she's had a fag. when
madams in a hurry and she can't be bothered with the door,
she strips me down completely then chucks me on the floor.
One night she came home as drunk as a sack,
she came flying through the door and nearly broke my back.
Her foot got caught in my wire frame then she threw me at the wall,
as If I was to blame.I have been used and abused
and so as my mates.especialy when she goes on
those dreadful blind dates.We all hate it when
she has a clear out, because we all have to say goodbye.
Only there is just a few of us that will get a second try.
Well goodbye to you all, it's my turn on the road I suppose that has
become the coat hanger code.Chucked in a black bag with all
old bits of rag, accompanied by the smell of a dirty old fag
I am now at a jumble sale and hanging on a rack, holding
up a dress that looks like a sack. Where do I go from here,
that's what's going through my brain. I suppose I'll end up poking
out someone's drain. Were not much good as a hanger,
once we go past our best, but the poor old metal coat hanger has
surely been put to the test.