Betty Boop was a hooker
black heart fool who knows so well
speed walk streets with names like girls
dance with chickens in desert airs
playful city streets...
the beats in the mind and it drives it drives
callused hands meet tender flesh in the middle
punk rock hair-do all made up for fashion
and the label remains on permanent display
jet blown back to Betty Boop days
in the instant you close your eyes
and could this make up
hide the eyes like curtains in your window
singing the song that plays over and over and over...
**would like some feedback...