Painted Lady
By Sweeetsuz
She reaches for the dial on the radio Tuning into some late night talking show. Alone again in her empty old room Missing her lover, sitting in the old gloom. Her tired smile will be renewed and soon She goes to work in the gloomy old room, She does her hair and then bathes, perfumes. Seeking to survive selling love from her room. She paints on her smiles to hide all her tears, Men come to find love, they all have such fears Painted lady alone with her sad old tinny radio, Listening by herself to the late night talk show. Her smiles are all false as her lipstick smears, She kisses the Johns and swallows her tears. Her life is a game with bought love as the coins, Filling in the gaps by appeasing their loins. A trollop, dancing for her dollars As she cries into night’s callers Times are so long, nights sad and shady No more songs for that sad painted lady. Written March 10th, 2000 © on Jun 21 2001 03:16 PM PST 0 • 10
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"She reaches for the dial on the radio..."