The New York style trumpets galore
inside this tiny, slimy world.
"Eagle hearts for ten or more!"
When he shakes his leather fist...
It cannot begin to take you back;
the style doesn't handle that
without a meal of chicken fat,
a pile of aging grist.
The style box talks and it knows all
of screams and ashes in the fall.
Must we run before we crawl
through this fine and rose-red mist?
Stylin' men and stylish girls,
with blonde and purchased stylish curls,
kick and reach for wanton pearls;
deny the fatal twist:
That each and all who know style best,
must go west, west, west,
and so begins the style ******
in a hazy, ****** mist.
May 4, 2011
May 4, 2011 at 5:17 PM UTC
The New York style trumpets galore
inside this tiny, slimy world.
"Eagle hearts for ten or more!"
When he shakes his leather fist...
It cannot begin to take you back;
the style doesn't handle that
without a meal of chicken fat,
a pile of aging grist.
The style box talks and it knows all
of screams and ashes in the fall.
Must we run before we crawl
through this fine and rose-red mist?
Stylin' men and stylish girls,
with blonde and purchased stylish curls,
kick and reach for wanton pearls;
deny the fatal twist:
That each and all who know style best,
must go west, west, west,
and so begins the style ******
in a hazy, ****** mist.