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...said


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


Repeat chorus