Dogmind

©1998 Ekendra Dasa
07 Dogmind
Well, honey, I believe I’m gettin’ myself a chain
Yes, honey, I believe that dog has got the mange
Been rollin’ ’round them painted ladies, skin’s off where it ain’t
supposed to be. I’m gonna call the vet

Check out that fetchin’ fleabag on the fly
Yeah, I see you sniff-sniff-sniffin’ with your eye
One more mesmerizin’ mutt in whole enchilada rut
And I’m waggin’ this one, gonna see about baggin’ that!

Now, you keep chasin’ tail around, gonna wind up in the pound
Now, what the hell am I supposed to do? Spend my life scoopin’ up after you?

Gonna sit down on the front porch, chant myself a sloka
If I don’t, me and Fido ain’t gonna get to no Goloka.

If I don’t keep that chain around, gonna wind up in the pound.
Now, what that hell am I supposed to do—Spend my life scoopin’ up after you?

Gonna sit down on the back porch, chant myself a sloka.
If I don’t, me and Fido ain’t gonna get to no Goloka

Gonna make a beeline out the doghouse door
Ain’t gonna scratch that itchin’ any more
That don’t satisfy desire, that’s spittin’ whiskey on a fire—
it’s gonna come back higher and make you fry!

Yeah, I got to keep my dogmind chained

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