Reflections of a Broken Ballerina

Thirty-six come Sunday
But her bio still says thirty-one
She's been a dancer longer than she remembers
But lately dancing hasn't been that much fun
Selling lonely men cheap thrills
Hey! Take a look at these
U may even get 2 cop a feel
4 the low, low price
Of a few crumpled bills
That's Maurice over there
Talking 2 the creep with icey hands
He's been the owner of Cat Chasers
Since the day after God created man
Over there is Big Tony
He tries 2 stop the weirdos at the door
Behind the bar? That's Amanda
She used 2 be a dancer
But now she's just a whore
Lately Maurice has been hinting
She could make a few bucks on the side
Take a customer or two
And show them a real good time
At three hundred a ride
Hell, a hand job under the table'll
Getcha seventy-five
But she's not quite that desperate
At least not yet she's not
She's still just a dancer
Waiting on her big shot
Her chance 2 become a star
She knows if she lies down on her back
This'll be as far
As she ever gets
It's a long, hard road from Bimiji
2 New York
2 Broadway these daze
And she knows when she's all done dancing
It'll most likely be at this place
Or another one just like it
Then suddenly she hears the sound of thunder
Ac/Dc as loud as it can get
U might not want 2 be leaving so soon, boys
Cuz U ain't seen nothing yet
Then the spotlight falls upon her
All anyone can see is her
4 a little while none of it matters...
Not maurice
Not Cat Chasers
No even the creepy guy with icey hands
4 a little while none of it matters...
4 a little while none of it matters...
4 a little while
She gets 2
Dance


I wrote this piece while I wuz sitting in jail. It's another of those that I have no fucking clue where it came from. I know that I loved the title, and that's how it began. U can see how it ended up.