Smirked at, ****** on, pushed around, beat down
The ***** street corner is Tipsy Trixie's sin city playground.
She charges cheap,
because the black asphalt radiates the smoldering mid-July heat.
She hums "Hey Jude" as she struts up and down 9th Street.
She can't wear layers in the winter, because nobody can see the goods
underneath leg warmers , gloves, furs, and hoods.

Now Trixie is pregnant, 4 months...she's starting to show.
The days are getting longer but the business is slow.
"The Man" doesn't know.
He won't know...he can never know.
Trixie's been warned about the man.
He'll beat her up, and slice her open,
like a Chef Boyardee ravioli can.
Then he''ll sew her up and throw her back on 9th street,
to meet supply and demand.

I pledge allegiance,
to the flag,
of a united state
that consists of stock market ******,
politics,
****, and hate.

One nation,
without a vision,
under a god,
who dominates all religion.
A "majestic" nation,
who defends itself with nuclear fission.
If you are looking for liberty,
you better keep wishin'.

"Indivisible"
but devised into fifty states of gray.
Freedom of speech itself,
can deprive you of what you need to say.
**** your liberty, just because you can ******* my integrity ,
doesn't mean you can get the best of me.
Just because I dress like this,
doesn't mean I'm a communist.

The heart wants what the heart wants. The brain butts in and **** blocks our most valued, raw emotion. These feelings that could only originate from the pumping muscle in your chest that hurts after hearing tom petty or watching your favorite TV show's last episode fade away into the sunset.
   In a rare scenario where a man rolls off of his lady friend and has lit his nightcap cigarette, and STILL feels the sharp pang of love despite his release,  the man should ******* follow his heart, and become that cliche that 15 year old girls get wet over. Stay with that woman, I don't care if you've killed, pillaged, or ravaged, whether you deserve that pretty girl or not…you chase after her. Don't listen to you're head, you're head is what makes your **** hard. Follow your ******* heart, because I swear on my lucky cigarette that your mind (along with your ****) will give out long before your heart will.

I'm homesick when you're not with me.