That’s my baby girl
pacing in front of the boutique,
impatient for old moneybags
to buy her a new pair of shoes
Of her, timid will never be told
By god, she’s got the mouth of a mariner,
the soul of a lioness, lips smeared blood red,
heart of hyena, megaphone voice,
more guts than Dick Tracey,
and treacherous as Dalilia
Watch out! She rams pokers off the road
but’ll buy you a burger if you’re broke,
gnaw your ass numb if you bullshit her,
do you real good, man, if you’re true,
bust your balls if you lie
A bit like me at twenty-two:
fighting what’s fake, against trash on the street,
against the brains of Brahmins, control freaks
and Daughters Of The Revolution
Fairer in the face than I, feet more streetwise,
lost eight lives before twenty,
sees deeper into the heart than a Hubble
Genes, no doubt, but then,
sometimes God gets it right