Sep 2014
My sister sent some money 'cause things had gone to hell
She said, "You don't belong there Honey, a trip home will do you well."
On a three day smelly bus ride away from what had been obscene
turned my nose to New York City where the air was fresh and clean.
Pulled into Central Station, a different kind of highland
was met by my dear sister, a castaway on Gov'nors Isand.
Being broke was half the trouble,and we played it like a game
but the nasty shoe debacle, well it made me take the shame.
I didn't know quite what to do, but I knew I had a job,
a suit of hounds-tooth off 'The Give', and my hair cut in a bob.
The suit was fitting perfectly, for shoes we found some flats
pink with silver circled cut-outs, kind of clownish without spats.
Well I stood there in a laugh-cry, 'cause my job was in the city
I gotta make these babies black or be lookin' 'Hello Kitty'.
So she gets that strange expression, perhaps as from the Lord
In an empty apartment down the hall was some paint for the old baseboard.
We laughed the night we dipped the shoes,laughed until we cried
And early the next morning, it seemed the paint had dried.
You could see that they were shiny and ready for the weather
and from an eyeball's distance they could pass for patent leather.
I was ever careful as I slipped my stockinged toes
into brand new 'hello baseboard' shoes and no-frills tailored clothes.
Mincing along, but gingerly I hopped aboard the ferry
missed the bus to Beekman, in the dark, the walk was scary.
Made it the building not a minute did I lose
I tidied up my hair and then I glanced down at my shoes...
Blasted ****** got 'em muddy, bits of paper grass and sand
I heard my toes scream out, "Hey, buddy, for shoes, tar paint is banned!"
Quickly then I kicked 'em off and tried to wipe 'em clean
but every little thing unstuck took off the tacky sheen.
I did my best to conceal a sob but had to pay my dues
as more than one allergic snob caught sight of battered shoes.
I tried to blacken out the pink, with a big old magic marker
but folks complained about the 'stink', and not a day was darker.
At 5 PM, back on the street, with nowhere else to roam
my misery was made replete, as I tracked some more dirt home
She said, "You don't belong there Honey, a trip home will do you well."
On a three day smelly bus ride away from what had been obscene
turned my nose to New York City where the air was fresh and clean.
Pulled into Central Station, a different kind of highland
was met by my dear sister, a castaway on Gov'nors Isand.
Being broke was half the trouble,and we played it like a game
but the nasty shoe debacle, well it made me take the shame.
I didn't know quite what to do, but I knew I had a job,
a suit of hounds-tooth off 'The Give', and my hair cut in a bob.
The suit was fitting perfectly, for shoes we found some flats
pink with silver circled cut-outs, kind of clownish without spats.
Well I stood there in a laugh-cry, 'cause my job was in the city
I gotta make these babies black or be lookin' 'Hello Kitty'.
So she gets that strange expression, perhaps as from the Lord
In an empty apartment down the hall was some paint for the old baseboard.
We laughed the night we dipped the shoes,laughed until we cried
And early the next morning, it seemed the paint had dried.
You could see that they were shiny and ready for the weather
and from an eyeball's distance they could pass for patent leather.
I was ever careful as I slipped my stockinged toes
into brand new 'hello baseboard' shoes and no-frills tailored clothes.
Mincing along, but gingerly I hopped aboard the ferry
missed the bus to Beekman, in the dark, the walk was scary.
Made it the building not a minute did I lose
I tidied up my hair and then I glanced down at my shoes...
Blasted ****** got 'em muddy, bits of paper grass and sand
I heard my toes scream out, "Hey, buddy, for shoes, tar paint is banned!"
Quickly then I kicked 'em off and tried to wipe 'em clean
but every little thing unstuck took off the tacky sheen.
I did my best to conceal a sob but had to pay my dues
as more than one allergic snob caught sight of battered shoes.
I tried to blacken out the pink, with a big old magic marker
but folks complained about the 'stink', and not a day was darker.
At 5 PM, back on the street, with nowhere else to roam
my misery was made replete, as I tracked some more dirt home
