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Skip The Smokey Ones
My hair was filled with smoke
Girls tits were popping out of tight shirts
Guy bartenders went topless
Feeding hungry boys
Down with tubing devices
Filled with beer

Blue shirt boy
Guzzles down beer
As OPP plays and the Beastie ones too
He drinks it all
And seconds later
He vomits his defeat onto the floor before him
And the bar that fed him

The pipe above smokey land
And the wall
Both covered in ladies bras
White, Green, Red, Pink, and Black

I see her across the room
Out of place
She stood
Beautfiul, exquisite, wondered why she was here?
Or there?
Or why not here?

The college boys dressed the same
In their flannel shirts
And baseball caps
Working out to impress their mothers fantasy
Not showing real paths
To women's hearts
But only decoys of make-belive

My hair
My jacket
My shirt
Still stink of their nicotine
And their lies

I approached for a change
Told her what I thought
The bar became quiet
In the loud dark atmosphere

We kissed
Intensely we exchanged
Our tongues
Uptown New York City
Grasping her young body
She holding mine
Beer on the floor
Hearts kept inside

We left to go elsewhere
To walk
We left the covershop
The Identity crisis and identifiers
We walked away from it all
And entered the realm
Of neglect

Moses is homeless
With a neon mets winter cap
New Reebok sneakers and squeaky clean hair
Makes the dreadlocks thicker and the rabbi's leg hurt
The fagots are homophobic in this car
They arent letting go

She kissed me on the lips
The beauty left me there
Masturbating in the car alone
To the image of a magazine
I bought long ago
At the ripe age of thirteen
Thirteen car seats
And all I have left
Is my egg burt

College boys
Collegs girls
I missed it
I skipped it
To ride with you
And you left me
You bailed
You blew me
You wished me
And now you are gone

 1999 David Greg Harth @ Downtown 6 NYC @ 296 NYC