I am a dancer, dancing is my practice, my
Meditation, when I walk Iím like a samba
I am grounded in the discipline of dance.
I let teevee, I let addictions steal my source
Years pass until I am no longer worthy
Body forgives, dirty job but someoneís gotta
I am backpeddlin all the way to the Buddha baby
Who, like any child,
Wrestles life thru her senses
A dancer I ditched who inflames Loretta
And still canít help but drive men wild.
I am my motherís daughter.
She gave me dance and she gave me music and I
Thank you Queenie for the gig you gave me
It will sanctify the dishonor of your body
The twisted fucked up remarkable beauty you placed in
The service of dominating men
You mom, your contrivance, not mine
I donít have to fear the gift you tried not to offer
I can take what you ungave without stealing your mind.
My heart knows what it took and it
As in, perfection.
Just one relic as more is excessive
Superfluidity, that was
Miss Ellie Mae Hicks.
enough, Mother, for
You can still be my mama,
The only one I got
Letís say sayanora, itís been good to know ya
†Enough, now for
Copyright 2003 Robin Plan and troublewaits.com.† All rights reserved.