Damn

Can you make a space on the seat?
 A box-like shape for a silly woman?
 Damn, a chamois
 I thought I'd made a tambourine
 When I am led, I resent
 Only when I'm left do I know what I said
 The old, it bickers with the fresh
 When I'm standing, with my brush in the emptiness
 Sorry I was late and you didn't get your weekend
 Sorry I was late and you didn't get your weekend
 My mother said "Why must you drag all the hopes out of bed?"
 I blame the seasons
 We all have our reasons, I meant
 Sorry I was late and you didn't get your weekend
 I did at one time attempt
 In landing sleeves and a silly ribbon
 There must be a reason, he said
 I know the reason, he meant
 Damn it, Hanny
 When you jump, up and down
 The chains, almost sound, like a tambourine