Her skin was darker than ashesnAnd she had something to saynBout being naked to the elementsnAt the end of yet another daynAnd the rain on her back that continued to fallnFrom the bruise of her lipsnSwollen, fragile, and smallnnAnd the bills that you paid with were worth nothing at allnA lost foreign currencynMulti-coloured, barely reputablenLike the grasses that blew in the warm summer breezenWell she offered you this to do as you pleasednnAnd where is the poetry?nDidn’t she promise us poetry?nnThe redwoods, the deserts, the tropical easenThe swamps and the prairie dogs, the Joshua treesnThe long straight highways from dirt road to tarnHitching your wheels to truck, bus, or carnnAnd the lives that you hold in the palm of your handnYou toss them aside small and damn near unbreakablenYou drank all the water and you pissed yourself drynThen you fell to your knees and proceeded to crynnAnd who could feel sorry for a drunkard like thisnIn a democracy of dunces with a parasites kiss?nnAnd where are the stars?nDidn’t she promise us stars?nnNothing will ever be as it wasnThe price has been paid with a thousand loose shoesnPictures are pasted on shop windows and wallsnLike a poor mans BoltanskinLost one and all.nnSell, sellnBid your farewellnCome, comenSave yourselfnGive yourself overnPushing your consciousnessnDeep into every atom and cell,nSell,nBid your farewellnCome, comenSave yourselfnGive yourself overnPushing your consciousnessnDeep into every atom and cell,nSell,nBid your farewellnCome, comenSave yourselfnGive yourself overnPushing your consciousnessnDeep into every atom and cell