Thursday, January 4, 2018

A Blue Kind of Woman

She had blue lipstick on
A woman her age
Sitting at a hotel bar
Trying to pick me up
With blue lipstick on


Airline stewardesses
Past their prime
Or maybe, I don’t know
Maybe she’s a businesswoman
A CEO type
Twice-divorced
Trying to impress some young kid
Talking about all the dick she gets
When she goes around


And I'm like--


I know you go around
And good for you


Good for you, lady
You get yourself around
Sounds good


But you ain’t gettin’ around
With me


Not with that blue lipstick


She wants to invite me to, uh
To have me go up to her room
Smelling like the back of a kitchen
Probably turns her on


Probably entices her
Knowing she’s going to screw
Some twenty-one year-old busboy
Who doesn’t have two nickels
And don’t give a fuck about it neither


She wants to leave blue lipstick on my neck
So when I go home
My girl will think
I’ve been out here
Kissing trashy girls
Even younger than I am


And I’ll have to tell her
It was some old lady
Telling me she’s one age
When you gotta add ten years
To get the truth


And my girl’ll say--


‘Oh, that’s better?’


And I’ll say--


‘Nah, but it’s closer to real'

And the shoulder goes cold
All the same

I bet her hotel room was blue
I bet her bra and her nightgown was blue
I bet her power suit for tomorrow is blue


I bet
I don’t know
If I was a better man?
I’d bet
That her fucking soul
Down into her whatever whatever
Is blue


She’s a--


Ha


She’s one of those blue kind of women


It’s not just the lips
And the lies
And the liquor


It’s the whole damn
Fucking package, man


All of it


It’s all kinds of blue


Let Bob Dylan tell you about it
He knows what’s up


You think I don’t know Bob Dylan?

Shit
I’m a student
Of history
And the man
Was a historian
He was a chronicler


He knew about blue


Women like her
She’d listen to a song
And hear some words
Like they’re something
To sing along to


I hear a song
About--


It’s this kind of blue
Or that kind of blue
And all of a sudden
I’m really paying attention


Because somebody’s trying to tell me
That there’s a way to be in this world
That’s better than hotel bars
And hotel kitchens
And lobbies full of people
Trying not to go up to an empty room
So they can watch their blue movies
And sleep on their blue beds
Trying not to get blue balls
Because nobody wants them
And nobody ever will


It’s blue, you know?


And my life?


My life?

I don’t know


Gotta be something


Don’t want to be left
Holding my check
And some change
And a bar tab with a room number on it


Five-oh-something


Fuck


All that blue


All that purple
Dashwood
Devil

Blue

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