Skip The Smokey OnesMy 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 Looking We kissed Intensely we exchanged Our tongues Intertwine 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 99.02.28.01:15:19 @ Downtown 6 NYC 99.03.01.02:56:12 @ 296 NYC |
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