115

She called it musty
but I called it sex
when she smelled like Chanel
and cigarettes
Up in that rarefied atmosphere
windows and plywood lofts
sky lines and bed views
I was sitting in an armchair
Just thinking about my thoughts
A toilet paper streamer party
in the bathroom stall
and pretty fuckin' flower paper
on a wrinkly wall
Fuck, fight or hold a light
The dirt under her nails
The smoke under her tales
Spun round and up
Shut down and never
Spun round and up
And rose forever
24 7 up
Forever and a day
It was long, it was short
Like her hair, like her snort
Like her drink, and her skirt
That fingernail dirt
The only island she was on
was made of long iced tea
And the blue sky fell all around, all around
and the blue sky fell all around