Floating down the canals of the upper crust,
They have got the keys to the South locked up.
Smooth skin girls and no fake pearls
Just fake smiles,
Aimed at me like charity to a poor child.
From Savannah to Key West
I migrate South looking to rest.
But love's like molasses in my chest,
So slow to show I've made a mess.
Dreamt of my death mask,
Mozak out of pain meds
I was the monster
Underneath my own bed

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