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Raspy, spoken

Follower

Through the snow he treds



Hot but bitter from the cauldron;

Miss America’s looking for a

Sign to put you on her plate



Follower to the cocaine mines

Where she steals her

Charm



She’s your cocaine,

Eating you up;

Wrapped in a blanket of cheap desire



Tred broken cotton balls that

Shattered

Through the passing years



Addiction crowned your

Country’s Queen

And put her on your plate



Shaggy minors

Come for free cocaine

Trudging past the plates of addicts



Pies of powder

Keep her sane

In your mind alone



That cauldron holds you

In her mine

Of dusty charm



Wears you down

Through lines on

Mirrors you once could clearly see



She’s got you shaving

Your legs

For pleasures so high



Softly do the

Minors feel, but do



Forget what they never knew



She nicked so long,

The raspy spoken minors

Who want the free cocaine



I stir the cauldron,

Light it up

And pretend I’m gone