Emily Dickinson didn't give a damn
What you thought of her poems, thank you ma'am
What business of yours if she sits there all day
Contemplating death with the pen and the page
Emily, why did we
Invade your space, ransack your place
We're you secretly hoping we'd take you home
Or are you pissed e wouldn't leave you alone?
Emily Dickinson didn't give a hoot
what you thought of her poems that point was moot
Once she packed them away upstairs in a box
She must have known we were all dumb as rocks
Emily, why did we
Invade your space. ransack your place
Were you secretly hoping we'd hear your heart
Or are you sore we tore your attic apart
Emily Dickinson didn't give a crap
About that corsage you just laid in her lap
Her mind ain't going nowhere near the inside of your pants
The meaning of things is all she'll romance
Emily, why did we
Invade your space, ransack your place
Were you secretly hoping we'd see your soul
Or are you pissed about the shit we stole?
They say Ernest Hemingway had a small Dickinson fetish
His friends back then said "He's quick to let us
Know he could have gotten her to do the nasty"
My money would've been on old Emily
Emily, why did we
invade your space, ransack your place
We're you secretly hoping we'd read your stuff
Or are you pissed we wouldn't leave well enough
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