What drawer do you keep your stockings Without secrets this life would be boring Realize we’re all a little vain Or we’d never get dressed in the morning
Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady We all need an excuse to clear our minds Offering a compassionate ear The clues exist once you pull back the rind
Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink Dangerous curves under a vintage coat Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman The peculiarities of each soul; I take note
Late nights blend into early mornings Up with the weirdos on the street Seeing visions where the shadows were My mind tripping; my instincts in retreat
All the sand has fallen from the hourglass Dangerous curves when I’m confused Punching time clocks when I should slumber Paycheck feels light/ feel like I’m being used
Leaving my underwear in the middle of the floor I need more, but its high time for bed To sleep, to dream; an impossible task Passing ships with everything left unsaid
Those matchbox fantasies Gunmetal grey panties with soft pink polka dots She placed a stiletto on her wooden leg Character assassination plots go all for naught Unassuming by way of distraction She’s hiding a switchblade under that dress She’s dangerous down to her core A beautiful woman – you don’t want to mess Beware of their corrosive accolades There’s no exoneration in the line of fire She’s insolent about your theoretical love In the end, she’s killed you with her underwire
Listening to Wollstonecraft on the radio “Don’t turn that dial!”, that’s what the DJ said Not tied to any system; I’m still analog I’m dangerous; so the advertisers pled
Hereditary responsibility to the common good Therefore I don’t believe what I’ve been taught I see y’all got opinions, from your suburban thrones & these school systems regurgitating corporate rot
Criminal malpractice leaves us with poor examples But we’ve seen far worse on both sides of the aisle Bribing the lowest common denominator for votes Rewrite history, but perhaps that’s not in your files
I’ve been cast off, labeled a subversive heretic But I’m easy – so I’m doing my best to unlearn To unwind these falsehoods they tried to entrench The slow burn; time to take candor for a turn
Rash choices based upon juvenile aesthetics The understanding that we all might partake Though one must know speaking the truth too loud Turns into testimony & they might burn us all at the stake
I’m hanging on for dear life As you whisk me around I’m dangerously close My soul being bound To you & all this joy You whisper it’s not real That you’re just a dream Then how come I can still feel