I work as a bouncer in a milk bar
My jacket's white from walls
Women drift in like flowers
They have their roots
The roots have a resigned expression
They sink their spoons into their cake
Yet their women look at them sternly
In the yogurt rental office
Don't believe anyone
Who has two nostrils
I work as a bouncer in a milk bar
And I have cottage cheese skin
Migrating cheeses are about to fly south now
They're blotting out the sky