Sitting above the town
Talking low in the neon’s glow
Discussing romance & bathtub gin
We’re no experts, save what the shadows know
Rejecting chemical imbalance theories
Sunshine blocked out by the billboards
Late afternoon excursions to avoid reality
A gentle touch to escape the heinous hordes
But the truth cannot be forever skirted
Some days you must wake & simply endure
But the beauty of life will shine on though
With a taste of happiness that’s always pure
Telling stories after dark Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead Fantastical little allegories Bringing a light to those souls in need
No need to whisper in the shadows Luminous words to prepare the way Removing barriers to our enlightenment Witticisms fleshed out & on display
Short tales to get creative juices flowing Harking back to dreams that we might meet Subtle differences between the pauses Allowing our imaginations to properly greet
Scenes from our own round table Foreplay within our cheeky banter Conjuring visions of a keen passion Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter
Bad behavior leads to a more examined life Though through fiction we can live eternal A little more sensitive than you want to believe Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal
Out here with our hearts raised to the sky Searching for better answers on the midnight shore With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war
Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade
In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice
It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
It’s the current failure of society & they call it Skyfall