a run in her fishnet stockings
hoops swaying from her ears
dancing the way the business taught her to
a swinger a singer a dancer romance her
it's easy to do

across the bar cigar in hand, hat on the stand
a deadpan poker quiet man, betting his savings
letting go of his wife-and-child money, they'll never come back
he's been offtrack for years
he picks up the slack and gambles his fears
(and lonely divorce tears)
he bets a grand
and shows his hand.

and i watch all these people in the green street bar
social masks and whiskey flasks
give a name at the door, let your shirt collar loose
till you hear the siren of police cars!
the scene to be seen in;
a crowd so lonely they could cry.

a mother of two, mistress of three
earning the money shamefully
she comes into work, her boss is a jerk
the days blur together like watercolors!
she hates herself.
kids at the daycare, a wallet of welfare
a dozen men staring
at how little she's wearing
and she's nearly done caring.

and i watch all these people in the green street bar
social masks and whiskey flasks
give a name at the door, let your shirt collar loose
till you hear the siren of police cars!
the scene to be seen in;
a crowd so lonely they could cry.

© 2008 - Lynn O'Brien