I was riding around with a rich white lady
Drunk on Absinthe, Hope and Loss
Words dripped from my tongue; decadent diaries
Of the rich and the famous
To-get-her we learned that everything was meaning, less
But it all seemed so meaning, full
IT was the con-tradition that was getting to us
Duality at its worse, when we are just one thing
Well, wait - are we not no - thing?
A brick through the window !
It hit me right in the face
My jaw was broken, blood on the floor;
Yet somehow I managed a smile
Yeah, she smiled too
Of course, she was a rich white lady
What in the world did she have to do?
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