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Yesterday i was born of a coke-goddess queen, |
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a child of the city, |
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and tonight as i lie in the arms of a silver clad diva, |
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with her hips clutching mine, |
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cradled, i love, amidst the newspapers, |
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the television, the noise, |
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the lies, the heat that is not hot, |
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yet nearly intolerable. |
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And the day that it happened, |
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the day that i began to become woman, i cried. |
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where's that poetry gone, |
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cause i think i have lost some sensual sweet. |
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where's my little girl hips? |
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a little innocence on these lips isn't so hard to wipe away. |
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just ask me. |
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Now rolling, now rocking, now tick-tocking time away, |
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my hands reach for my face but fingers like knives, |
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10 to a set, cut deep and leave me scarred. |
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so that my lips pass over her lips yet |
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feel more and more like the concrete coating all around. |
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and i reflect that what i write, |
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what i say mirrors the glass all around and what i think, |
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well, that's a product manufactured downtown. |
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so i reflect that these hips |
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now rolling, now rocking, |
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now tick-tocking time away |
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will one day bear the child of the cold pushing and hard driving city. |
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And as the years went by small changes occurred in my face, my body, my love. |
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my body has been becoming concrete for years now. |
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where's that poetry gone, |
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cause i think i have lost some sensual sweet. |
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where's my little girl hips? |
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a little innocence on these lips isn't so hard to wipe away. |
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just ask me. |
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Now coming home tonight, alone, |
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coming home wandering these streets alone, |
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thinking only words for thought and with words and thoughts |
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i am alone. |
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and if you walk my streets, if you say my words, |
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if you hold my hips, new to me, |
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will it ever be so clear |
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that it is the buildings that rise and stiffen to seed the sky, |
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spawning the ever growing puddle of sprawl in the ever growing land of filth, |
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and that i am my hips. |
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i am my hips. |
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i am my hips - the bastard child of the city grown. |
