Filthy And Fried

Bottles falling in a dumpster send a stale smell rising

Through a sickening summer haze

To the rhythm of a boot-heeled hipster cowgirl’s

Clunky sashay of shame

Mundane mayhem the last of the AM’S gasoline powered release

Of the rest of the day to the afternoon’s rising relentlessly stifling heat

Up round the corner a B model Mazda’s sitting crooked between the lines

Feeling lucky that 27’s the hardest thing she’ll have to survive

Just don’t mix your Browns and your whites with your wine

And don’t sit on your cigarettes

You’ll feel like shit soon enough and deserve’s got no say in a story’s past

It’s what alive feels like

Bored children caught between dog days when night turns them loose

All that’s different for girls is the bragging and who it’s done to

Everyone claims that the times are a changing as theirs pass them by

And everyones’s right

Way down beneath all the talk and tequila and reasons excuses and doubts

Breathing steam from his cup and stink from his fingers

He’s starting to figure it out

The old man’s world was more doing than thinking

And the doing was more cut and dried

Now girls collect trophies as much as the boys and come home just as filthy and fried

Now girls collect trophies as much as the boys and come home just as filthy and fried