Tipping scales of Cocaine dust, my beauty with you, an all I trust
Dancing dead with kites for heads, with ice for brains, and little gold chains
Chunky as sweet, as death is delete, my eyes in yours, I’m high……what’s worse?
Nothing at all, ecstasy in fall- but we run like lions, prides an all
with leaves as paper, and pens as squalls, my mother, your mother, step and stoops
brown shins, with a little, small bruise.
So everyday, in the month of may- come see me, come see me….don’t shy away.
Unless blood is your purse, which I don’t mind, but even worse- is how kind you are,
we need not rehearse.
But you’re wonderful, harshly wonderful! Met you with a toothpick in your mouth wonderful.
Pink and Green dress, but I digress, so let’s………talk less, and walk with no shoes. For this is Vegas!
Fuck the Catfish, and Guitars- Fuck me Blues…….
I love your non-smile, how it drives me wild….fertile, child, river Nile in a mile, or forever hold my peace….as room service walks by….go ahead, answer your phone..
and tell your boyfriend, I said “Hi……”
“You don’t like players, that’s what you say….but you really wouldn’t mind a millionaire.” – Amy Winehouse