Friday, December 12, 2008

Goldie Hawn is my Mother

I don't have track marks and I don't do that speed sh*t at the fancy poker clubs,
You have a choice and you can be the Mister truth teller and be the serious one,
Or you can chill ... hey, what are the rules and where are you doing that sh*t!
She always said to me, follow the flow love grouper and be sure of what it is...

I broke the rules and I looked him in the eye (behind hands) and said 'screw me'!
There was a price to pay and I did not look up the ass of Oxford scholars, nope,
Cos I am an actress, yep, the oracle of Polish parts has spoken his stories,
If you look for even edges and the right answer and only the right one then Hell!

Why did the speeding car collect the post and the lady of the moon go tragic flame,
Why did those towers ignite and the Arab sheiks suck kisses with the white devil,
Why must I remember Ravensbruck and the way they tortured that lovely princess,
Why does Daniel Craig have angles that make the Martian spheres weep with stanzas.

The time may come when you fall off the wagons and break down that oaken door,
'Hey b*tch, I married you and will do the right thing but my cock wants new times!',
When Virginia Woolf screamed that she wanted her space and could not breath now,
The world did not inflame and the futures still spun and she won her right to die.

Goldie Hawn is my Mother and taught me how to be alive in taking away my drains,
The highlights of a fancy Vegas strip club and the pole dancing freakos with spice,
Relax and feel your way to the higher plains and never take a Quaalude with thee now,
And sit your laps in to a night of taken men and broken vows, where love shall weep.

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