Über Squeeze (1)

»She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle / And shuffles about in her candle lit hovel / Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens / She smells like the cat and the neighbors she sickens // The black and white TV has long seen a picture / The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture / The postman delivers the final reminders / She sells off her silver and poodles in China // Drinks to remember, I me and myself / And winds up the clock and knocks dust ...