
There’s a party at the gallery tonight
So Veronica is taking off her bra
See her tits right through her t-shirt, it’s so tight
She doesn’t latch her overalls,
her makeup’s like a baby doll
She’s fucking up her lipstick
getting higher than a kite
And Bailey’s got his vintage cowboy threads
His moleskin notebook clutched within his fist
And he’s coaxing some dumb slacktivist to bed
And as he leans in for a kiss,
He make’s sure that there’s witnesses
If your romance isn’t witnessed,
Then you may as well be dead
And Georgie’s coming over with his stash
Man, he’s gonna kiss the girls and make ‘em cry
He’s got everything you need to itch the scratch
And some other shit you’ll wanna try
to get yourself electrified
He’ll get you Pentacostal
if you’re down to drop the cash
At the gallery tonight
You’ll go to live the dream
Where all the brightest socialites
All go to see and to been seen
So I’m walking down 14th street killing time
Past the yogis and siddhartha’s in the Square
And I’m watching all the play-by-plays online
They’re getting all their pictures shared
For posing in their underwear,
And praying they’re the muse
of some director’s new design
So I’m hoping out to Bushwick on the L
‘Cause someone said I’ve got to play the game
And I’ve got a few ideas I’m trying to sell
But everybody with a name
is only there to buy cocaine
And find a trendy background
for a picture of themselves
But when I arrive, the place is a parade
To my surprise there’s something being missed
There weren’t any pictures in the frames
The exhibition don’t exist, it’s only exhibitionists,
And you can be a work of art
unless you’re on display
At the gallery tonight
You’ll go to live the dream
Where all the brightest socialites
All go to see and to been seen
But by 3 a.m. Veronica was lost
No proper paparazzi ever showed
“You lookin’ here?” she asked me with a scoff
I dropped my eyes and told her no
She raised her hands up to my throat
And shoved me the wall crying
“Why the fuck not?”
©Calvin Rezen. All rights reserved.