| Marlena under Foster Grants
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| She’s undercover from the dawns advance
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| That girl is travel-drained
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| And the neon mercury vapor stained
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| Miami sky
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| It’s red as meat
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| It’s a cheap pink rose
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| Otis in the driver’s seat
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| Watches the street lights fade away
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| On louvered blocks in green sea air
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| In fluorescent fossil yards
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| Slippers are shuffling into folding chairs
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| Freckled hands are shuffling cards
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| They’ve come for fun and sun
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| While Muslims stick up Washington …
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| Otis empties out the trunk
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| On the steps of that celebrated dump
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| Sleazing by the sea
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| Bow down to her royal travesty--
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| In her ballrooms heads of state--
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| In her bedrooms rented girls--
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| Always the grand parades of cellulite
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| Jiggling to her golden pools
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| Through flock and cupid colonnades
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| They jiggle into surgery
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| Hopefully beneath the blade
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| They dream of golden beauty …
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| They’ve come for fun and sun
|
| While Muslims stick up Washington …
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| Marlena, white as stretcher sheet
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| Watches it all from her 10th floor balcony
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| Like it’s her opera box
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| All those Pagliacci summer frocks
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| Otis is fiddling with the TV dial
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| All he gets are cartoons and reruns
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| She taps her glass with an emery file
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| Watching three rings in the sun
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| The golden dive, the fatted flake
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| And sizzle in the mink oil
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| It’s all a dream
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| She has awake
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| Checked into Miami Royal
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| Where they’ve come for fun and sun
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| While Muslims hold up Washington …
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| Dream on
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| Dream on
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| Dream on
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| Dream on
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| Dream on |