Transcript
She, oh she, the unbroken sweetheart
from room 606. She was somebody she was. She dipped in and
out of the night sinking into that nicotine sky to emerge
dripping with diamonds and a smile that was a pay on to joy,
to shimmering exactly.
She, oh She, the pauper princess of sesohman. All the men
loved her. With a pocket full of choice she could do no wrong.
One day she was my mother, caring, God fearing, beautiful.
The next a sunken pay dream, ruined yet delicately bedewed
with a glacial wisdom pealed off a 3 am sidewalk. She was
above all my lover. Her breath lay comfortably on my face
like spring, her hair fell through my fingers like hot powdered
gold, I brushed her skin, it felt like tattooed ice.
WHO WILL I CHOOSE
(dance)
She moved like a jazz beat, up down with an irregular howl.
Were the boys always this dull, she thought? No…only on a
Tuesday evening.
WHO
But still, she smiled the echoing smile that teased all the
weeping hearts of men.
She, oh She, the swinging sister of 69th street. That cut
out face, those alabaster eyes, from what misfit cloud did
you fall from young lady.
She, oh she, the devil with a blue dress on from chandlers
own back yard. From out of where she came, unanswered, unquestionable.
An escaped martyr with dreams of a new life. Yet bound, shackled,
caught up by a past that thrived on the knifes edge.
Cut to the chase, to the excitement, to the thrill of the
pussycats kill, that was her unexpected mantra. Where you
could ride high on one thing. She came in from the cold and
she always left by the back door.
She, oh she, the cook symphony of white from the black sea.
Whether a chameleon slipping into the under belly and seeing
right through it's predatory gaze. She held her own. She would
not back down. She was innocent. She was innocent.
She, oh she, the glittering dream girl of this here place.
He fell into the fury of the night and lost herself in the
boredom on the day. You're a magnificent mess baby. Your naked
world is a blazed in Halloween red and upside-down, inside
out calamity of backward swirl. You crazy girl. You can't
see your pretty little toes from your exquisite elbow. Slow
down baby, slow it down.
Your bruised intentions were a beautiful thing, but instead
you dreamed of him, when I dreamed of you. In the end, the
cannons blazed, the moon shot the breeze, and we all danced
slow till the sun came around.
She, oh she, today you were for me and tomorrow for him. You
are every girls heartbeat and every mans centerfold. But now
your simply mine. And that...well that's good enough for any
man on this cool November night.
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