pink haired girl

you come to me and how cant i fall in love
pouty lips and complaints
my god the dance
of looks to your toes and back at me
i know my eyes
arent made of bad memories
and still you flinch
i dont even mind the boring brown lipstick look
and powder guck that you seem to adore

and of course i see thru those sunglasses
move your fat ass and quit acting
like your velvet panties i wanna see a girl
not a music box ballerina whose
never been fingered in a backseat valhalla
how long you been in america

clubkids are fun but come on
and i wondered what old ladies
who brush their poodles looked like
when they were in art school