Confetti

Skinny little brats

Walking down Avenue A

Dangling their cigarettes

Their Independence Day

Tears like filigrees

Wear them on their sleeves

Nobody's main squeeze

It's thirty-five degrees

Poetry of ordinary life is what I live for

They just wanna be seen

They just wanna be heard… said

My words are like confetti

And you never pick them up

They fall to the ground

I need someone to lift me up

So diaphanous so ephemeral

And all those bad words

They never learned in school

Groovy like my mama was

In her black turtleneck

She was so high-strung

She was so low tech

Poetry and tattooed dreals

And fourteen carat nose rings

The children of elite

Are trying to be street saying

(Répéter refrain)