Is it a paraffin greenhouse heater?
A moped fuelled on cow excreta?
How many miles will it do to a litre?
Is it a portable trouser-press?
A seventeenth-century birthing dress?
A Luxembourgian water cress?
A caravan no longer sold?
A French Canadian wrestling hold?
A fridge which keeps bacteria cold?
No. Alanis Morissette
Is like the sort of noise you get
While waiting with a wounded pet
Before arrival of the vet.
It rants, it rails, it shrieks and squeals
And while your tooth enamel peels
It tells you how fed-up it feels
Like Joni Mitchell's spoilt niece
or something out on day-release
Too much of it, you call the police
When fifth-form angst as poetry
Meets well-paid music therapy
You get the lot on one CD
Alanis MorissetteReuse content