Shaky Lady
Sally Ann designs the clothes
That she models on the concrete,
Moving her backwards
Down a one way street.
Home Sweet Home
For the beggar gypsy
Is where she counts your money
in her Penthouse suite
Watch her tremble
as you pass her by
Reaching for your sympathy
in clever disguise.
Contradiction in perception
Is her specialty
What she isn't
is exactly
what she appears to be
Her pitiful illusion
will only rob you blind
As she drinks champagne
from her brown bag of lies
Watch her quiver
till she reaches the door
to the life of luxury
you're paying for
Shaky Lady
You're making me old
Shaky Lady
Are you really that cold?
What ever happened to your honesty?
What made your pride
Turn into greed?
Shaky Lady
Everybody knows
Your hands only want
What our pocket books hold.
You bank on our emotion
So you can wear gold
Shaky Lady
You're making me old.
poem by Shelley Buffitt
Added by Poetry Lover
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