Sex, drugs and Cocoa Puffs, crowns of thorn, desert escapes and walking blindly into down under vices.

One last midnight to reflect and deflect our ashen future while I crucify myself on your hard boiled Wonderland wood floor.

And now I’m fading in a goddamn Monet painting,

clutching at straws as you lick away my flaws.

Sleepless nights lead to a green and white fairy paradise,

On my off days I start drinking at noon,

don’t get in between that you Burger King cumming fool.

Sid Vicious thoughts dripping down my arched back,

Stop preaching on Friday nights through your dime bag pupils,

Save your words for wicker baskets and crippled minds and cut me some fucking slack.

You’re so frail you’d rather throw your money into a wishing well instead of buying me dinner,

Keep praying the streets empty until the sun rises, it won’t work cause you’re still an almighty sinner.

Nothing is ever over, move on, without title or retribution ,

Shiva romances and diner coffee style institutions.

Part of your charm is that you’ve got no culture,

I’ll fill your mind with tortured fantasies so don’t feed me to the vultures.

I can’t seem to remember what magic feels like,

Once upon a time you said I tasted like frozen Klondikes.

Driving in cars with boys always ends up in a techno trance nightmare,

Leather, guitar ploys and vibrating punk pink toys.

Time is a flat circle that feeds my rage for feeling,

Hair dancing in the wind under a neon sign in some cactus town with dried up pools, plastic chairs and cracked church ceilings.

I’ll never let The Man bust my beat nick sensualities or my Zeppelin national anthems,

I’m not done inventing myself or finding my blood, swear and tears ring of fire.

Sublimating turns me on like a glowing jukebox oozing Grace Slick,

So stop dry humping my groove , you red, white and blue brute glass smoking bile.

You thought I was wrong, you never knew me and I’m glad you never did.

And the beautiful side of this dark side of the moon is that I never cried.

Texte : Cheyenne Crowe