bs

[Manslick]

we're all beautiful
we're all rich
we all end up in a muddy old ditch
with our champagne flutes held high

we hoop and holler
with a rope around our collar
and sniff for a dollar
or two

and i cant get warm
even in a big storm
i feel like a feather
afloat and no tether

wanting to be elsewhere
no cute clothes to wear
i lay my bright eyes
down to die
so a russian can
fulfill a bolshevik prophesy

 

[TAE]

Now that's a cheery one


echoes of the past have caught me at last