Swollen is the dark heart that seldom masters muster.
Happy is the hunger that still allows the flight of fluster.
Sorry is the soap star that cannot choose her next film…
It’s tragic when the magic is as skinny as film
That’s the bottom line, man.
She’s the bottom line, man.
3 cheers for Madame Bottom Line.
Staring out the looking glass.
Light lends lure the luster.
Way out on gray graffiti stone
Kept clean by unknown duster.
Never mind those hurry flurries
Or the icing of the air.
Keep in touch with your feminine side
In case she loves you there.
When folks fall in love they are delivered to the unknown.
Fools that never fall are in love with the safety zone.
You can end up all crippled up by the crazy seeds you’ve sown.
Therein lies the crux of the sweet flux of such irresistible moan.