
ya ever listen to sister Tharpe wailing on her guitar while spiking up your mohawk
strumming and tugging at my strands as her sweet sultry honey melts into my ear veins
getting ready for TSOL to play on the Sunst Strip in LA balls to the wall sexy hell
underage but i don’t care the way i’ve been living i’m going no where
life was too lively growing up at home so i ran from the folks
and broke all the rules danced on the shore at 7 past noon
big black ugly boots Cinderella slippers were for fools
stick my tongue out at the sky fill my nose up with white lies
scratches cuts bruises and tears bloody trousers fists in the air
scent of cars black smoke and politicos resign my gender go underworld
Christ Savior i see the Son can You explain why i felt at 3 like 21
riding on the bus with the ladies of the night shift who went to clean the houses of the rich
indignation in their smile as bright brown eyes fell on my style
echoing in the length of the trains how can this child spit on the American dream
missing the point in what i conveyed symptom of the American nightmare lost on the way

Great drawing
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Thank you friend. It’s a picture of me shushed up with multiple cell phone camera filters 🙂
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This one of yours for some reason made me think of Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin” — which is high praise in my book. Bravo.
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It is friend thank you xo much. I love Tom’s music too. Blessings to you xoxo
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I like the look, Marisela. You seem to have always been an old soul. “Christ Savior I see the Son can You explain why I felt at 3 like 21”.
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