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Tamburitza Lingua

A cold and porcelain lonely in an old New York hotel

A stranger to a city that she used to know so well

Bathing in a bathroom that is bathed in the first blue light

Of the beginning of a century at the end of an endless night

Then she is wet behind the ears and wafting down the avenue

Pre-rush hour, post-rain shower

Stillness seeping upwards like steam

From another molten sewer summer in New York

They've been spraying us

With chemicals in our sleep

Us, they

Something about the mosquitoes

Having some kind of disease

Them, me

CIA foul play if you ask the guy

Selling hair dryers out of a gym bag

Chemical warfare

"I'm telling you, lab rat to lab rat", he says

"That's where the truth is at"

That's where the truth is at

That's where the truth is at

And everything seems to have gone terribly wrong that can

But one breath at a time is an acceptable plan

She tells herself and the air is still there

And this morning it's even breathable

And for a second the relief is unbelievable

And she's a heavy sack of flour sifted her burden lifted

She's full of clean wind for one lean moment

And then she's trapped again

Reverted, caged and contorted

With no way to get free

And she's getting plenty of little kisses

But nobody's slippin' her the key

Her whole life is a long list of what ifs

And she doesn't even know where to begin

And the pageantry of suffering therein

Rivals television

TV is, after all, the modern day roman coliseum

Human devastation as mass entertainment

And now millions sit jeering collectively cheering

The bloodthirsty hierarchy of the patriarchal arrangement

She is hailing a cab

She is sailing down the avenue

She's 19 going on 30

Or maybe she's really 30 now

It's hard to say

It's hard to keep up with time once it's on its way

And, you know, she never had much of a chance

Born into a family built like an avalanche

And somewhere in the 80's between the Oat Bran and the Ozone

She started to figure out things like why

One eye pointed upwards looking for the holes in the sky

One eye on the little flashing red light

A Picasso face twisted and listing down the canvas

Of the end of an endless night

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

And Kerplooey you're done

You're done for, you're done for good

So tell me did you?

Did you do, did you do all you could?

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