Ferreyra

Chichina cleans day and night
her O.C.D. tendancies just won't let her rest
but somethings she will not touch
more often than not, she feels like a guest
in her own home, or was it ever hers to claim?
perhaps it's true that boy could never be tamed
she knows this is a new world's dream
and her beloved is a revolutionary

the water beats his head in his morning routine
runs down his face, off his lips and down his chest
tonight he dines with actresses three hundred miles away
he calls them comrades, and she just accepts it's for the best
tonight she will worry unconditionally,
will her boy comes home, from Miami?

She just can't stand the stains on his steel-toed boots
they're orange and grimy and he never wears them anymore
but she knows she just can't throw them out.
those stains tell a story to him, she cannot comprehend.
the plane leaves and she doesn't see him off once again
but she knows he loves her, or does she really?
Does she love him, or his radical dreams?

The fridge is empty, and the floor's still dirty
but she's so tired, why did she let herself become this?
Paperwork on the table, a kettle for some nice warm tea
There's an Kalashnikov in the closet, rounds in the dresser
she knows this can't be the way she was brought up
as he's talking politics, she's wondering if she's really in love.

The plane comes in at three in the morning
he's certain she should be asleep
but he finds her at the car waiting
because she knows inside, she's what he needs.
and she knows inside, that she could never leave.