the sun is shy dark weepy sad the red stars on the hipsters Mao bags are dull it is a bazaar of thought living on the tops of the foam of your demon seas rebel rider non Jane Fondaer grown girl he dirty boy military card heir LA west of Hollywood Battleship Potemkin plays let’s go drop bomb on my tongue baby Jimmy Hendrix’s way irony one hundred ways to think that we can go to Sizzler after this and dude your mom has a new car but if i were on that ship ida’ve done the same damn thing he sings to me God Save the Queen and we go fuck behind the dumpster but we can’t seem to fit it in and we go back to talking about politics
Angelino Artists
the will nots
this is your city filled with pigeons dogs and the likes of you children i have bred wild children of the zodiac keepers moon howlers zoo keepers of your selves
through my gutters there has never been a dainty lady that has crossed i am not bent to subscribe to what chains me daughter here are my children
waste makes haste to a life that is riddled by pain we are strong we are one but we can’t be here forever keep me i am your queen little angels in designer jeans
forever rip roaring renegade chingona silver screen teen dream exalted to the clouds of gasoline el lay dismay you will not subscribe to fantasy when i am right in front of you
words less spoken 