Shouting slurred meaningless obscenities falling corrosively
On the impressionable ears of all of those unlucky enough to hear
A snapshot of a generation within a soulless storefront of some new age coffee shop
That used to be a pawn shop next to an old hole in the wall jook joint called Cool Joe’s
While twirling her shiny silk strung platinum hair that used to bounce in brunette curls
She’s smiling as she’s telling her room full of new lovers
About her even atom tan