Skinny little brats

Walking down Avenue A

Dangling their cigarettes

Their Independence Day



Tears like filigrees

Wear them on their sleeves

Nobody's main squeeze

It's thirty-five degrees



Poetry of ordinary life is what I live for

They just wanna be seen

They just wanna be heard...



My words are like Confetti

And you never pick them up

They fall to the ground

I need someone to lift me up



So diaphanous

So ephemeral

And all those bad words

They never learned in school



Groovy like my mamma was

In her black turtle neck

She was so high strung

She was so low tech



Poetry and tattooed dreams

And fourteen caret nose rings

The children of elite

Are trying to be street saying



My words are like confetti

And you never pick them up

They fall to the ground

I need someone to lift me up



My words are like confetti

And you never pick them up

They fall to the ground

I need someone to lift me up



Poetry of ordinary life is what I live for

They just wanna be seen

They just wanna be heard...



My words are like confetti

And you never pick them up

They fall to the ground

I need someone to lift me up



My words are like confetti

And you never pick them up

They fall to the ground

I need someone to lift me up