The Indelicates
Le Godemiché Royal
You're pure, like you're sleeping
And your face is porcelain
You're cold, but you're breathing
With the ragged clutch of sin
And it's so unfair that they cheated you

You're light without shadow
And the city is your own
You see hands in the smokestacks
And poetry in the low
And it's so unfair what they ask of you

And how can they hate you when you're beautiful
And make a sewer from your scent
How sour, how loveless these people are
How cruel, disfigured, and unspent

You're slick, like you're reaching
And you're tense beneath your palms
No port but surrender could welcome you with loving arms
And it's so unfair that they crane and stare

You're old, you worked for it
And you did the best you could
You'd have loved them all if they'd asked you
You can't put edges onto words
And they raise a blade of unfeeling steel
And they leer and slobber
And how can they hate you when you're beautiful
When life was a strawberry[?] spun too well[?]
How can they spit so when they speak of you
It's so unfair
And...and...
And it's so unfair