Tropicalia

when they beat on a broken guitar and on the streets they reek of tropical charms the embassies lie in hideous shards where tourists snore and decay when they dance in a reptile blaze you wear a mask an equatorial haze into the past a colonial maze where there's no more confetti to throw you didn't know what to say to yourself love is a poverty you couldn't sell misery waiting in vague hotels to be evicted you're out of luck you're singing funeral songs to the studs they're anabolic and bronze they seem to strut in their millennial fogs 'til they fall down and deflate you didn't know what to say to yourself love is a poverty you couldn't sell misery waiting in vague hotels to be evicted now you've had your fun under an air-conditioned sun it's burned into your eyes leaves you plain and left behind see them eyes and fall into the jaws of a pestilent love you didn't know what to say to yourself love is a poverty you couldn't sell misery waiting in vague hotels to be a victim