Author Information
Whipped
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
