I pull up to the stop Sign and side-blow a little smoke Out of the window. Wait for the last burn Of the cigarette Then turn to green.
One glance in the mirror And there’s a young woman In a Tesla with long brown Curly hair and bright red lips. Singing like A Walmart movie star. **** me now sighs.
We pretend to not play mirror lick. 2 minutes trinkets.
Though I sit up a little straighter Suddenly self wrongsciouss And then notice That my hair is sticking Up just like a who from whoreville Ah **** it.
And she lets a smile out on bail Though I think it’s probably At the old man waiting to cross With way too many Christmas bags of shopping.
And we drive on this endless Highway of hooks and tumours, one night stands And one life stands And pretty moments and heartbreaks and rebounds. And winning lottery tickets. And Cuban cigars. And our hearts call room service In dive motels. And then we find someone to laugh with.
and my car is **** And my hair is going silver And I hit 40 like an uppercut.
And all of us patch up the cracks And take the pins out of other peoples voodoo dolls And dance with what we have. And do our best to punch above And throw a trick still. Like everything was beautiful once And now even if we fade just into accolades.
We wear a A lucky shirt A new pair of shoes hung up on the telephone wires A revenge dress to help undress The bitterness
A little blue that changes colours Sometimes As we drive away