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The Loneliest Woman |
a dry rain falls
like dust at least that’s what they call it in seattle a dry rain cold damp touching to the bone i turn a corner onto a street of dreams eyes watch me move past construction debris watch me am I the one watch me make my way through a judgment free zone of hope is he the one for me a dry rain falls like dust each drop resounding separately in a thunderous roar of silence mirroring my foot steps “Hello, hey Joe You wanna give it a go?” La Belle La Belle space angles from another time recall the Creole Lady Marmalade’s “Gitchi gitchi ya ya here” a dry rain falls like dust black umbrellas erupt like fields of dandelion puffs in spring time shielding portals to the soul but who’s soul ask me no questions i’ll tell you no lies “Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da Gitchi gitchi ya ya here” the work is hard it takes its toll beauty fades in the shadows but it matters not just take your pleasure prove your masculinity move on up the hill to the next stiletto heels blonde wigs and somewhat questionable femininity intice incite invite delights of the moment but this is a judgment free zone and she live in hope is he the one for me a dry rain falls like the dust of disappointment i am not the one i move on up the hill on this street of dreams while Ornette Coleman’s Mona Lisa dances in my head |