walking down the street,
diamonds shine through my hair,
i view the world through my gucci shades,
men stop to whistle and stare.
work is a peach for me and i got time for everything:
reporters call me for vox pops
while i get my nails done, and
daddy gives my employees their sops.
the nights out are the absolute best,
my page 3 friends in our favourite bars,
before we head to the hottest parties,
with our arm candy and our luxury cars.
no matter if my husband and i get there separately,
him with a bleached blonde on his arm.
i know she blew him while he drove the bmw,
and he looks at my boy toy with utter calm.
it happens everywhere, nobody really gives a damn,
after all we are the ones living life in the fast lane:
it’s all about the money and comfort,
and it's all about how you play the game.
there’s only one thing i might regret:
the 14-year-old girl in the suite next door,
my daughter and once, my pride and joy,
i hope she doesn’t turn out to be another moneyed whore.
2 comments:
Perfect rhyming sequence there. There is a lack of feeling, only meaning. A matter-of-fact emotionless poem, I couldn't help wondering if that was intended or was lost in the effort to make it rhyming.
-D
deep:
indeed. hmm.
i wanted to try writing about something not connected to me or anybody i know, since i seem to draw from my life and other people's lives. maybe that's why it lacked any feel. still.. i should not make excuses :) will try harder next time.
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