I put on a little black dress,
it was short, and my mother would not have approved.
Then I slipped into a pair of five-inch-high Jimmy Choos.
I poked some diamond stud earrings through my ears,
they were the round, pretty ones you gave me for Christmas last year.
I painted my lips dark red and my eyelids shimmery gold,
then I pulled on my black pea coat, and headed out into the cold.
I walked a couple blocks until I reached the bus stop,
wanting to go somewhere new, change my name, and get lost.
Thought if I looked real nice, all elegant and ****,
I could disappear from everything I've been dealing with.
I could start over new, maybe in L.A.,
I could wear that little black dress and it would all be okay.
And as I stood there, under the street lights in the cold,
I stared down at my feet, and let the reality of it unfold.
I could dress myself up, and try to skip out of town,
but that's no way to live, I'd just be wandering around.
The truth of it all, and what I must accept,
is that no one's life is perfect, not even in a little black dress.