They don’t have men
Down at the newspaper anymore
Dusty ages disagree
They’ve forever closed the door
They’re hiding the truth
In the time of an information superhighway
Where they locked away Dignity
They’re not telling, they won’t say
We’re on our own out here alone
You think we’re lost & have much to fear
Stranded under this desert sky
Be still thy soul, for I was born out here
Swapping Daisy Buchanan for Lady Brett
Dreams & visions traded for a martini glass
The swirls of ice resemble their hearts
The disappearing notion of the dignified class
So we raise a toast for decent luck
These three olives constitute her daily menu
Dancing off silently out onto the veranda
Subtly becoming her own performance venue
Gripping lightly to the banister
Our lives slipping away into the ether’s shadow
Gracefully stepping down each marble step
Never succumbing to their expectations of the afterglow
Holding your head up high in dignity
Wear the fancy clothes; wear your favorite scent
Knowing they’ll despise your happiness anyway
Remaining this awesome was never an accident
Captain Q 