she walks alone today

remember the sun-rise?  ever?
she presses her face in her hands
blowing smoke frome her refry stinks
up the city, stealing sobs and bitcheries.
but they still don't make any mace for rats
and for that
she doesn't weep
but she cries,
                           cries,
                                       cries.

in that sunshine, then.
she holds steady to any yesters'
so many "i told you so's" driven home
make you pull like a mule, like a mule, like a mule
but they still don't make white-out for old chats
and for that
she won't care
but she cries,
                          cries,
                                      cries.

now stick it to the sunset!
she's seen sixth street and bourbon street
ever so stupid, horny, drunk and sad
and every shade of maybeline
sometimes big papa has to trim the fat
and for that
kiss her ass
but she cries,
                          cries,
                                      cries.

                           down Riverside

she doesnt want to see
the moon alone anymore.
she won't cry
outside