Neon to Her Door

In a smoky bar, where glimpses skate around,
She dropped a blink like a slow garage door.
Lighting her eyes were twisted neon tubes.
White oval glass with barely a reflection.
My wonder begs at me like an old famine man.
Feed me slowly, kill me too fast.
Does neon hide her monster inside,
Or, her beauty glow where the darkness hides?

Neon tubes twist in her eyes, the white mirrors glow.
The colors change when she flickers a wink
Neon tubes twist in her eyes, the white mirrors glow.
She’s looking at me; I know the game.
Her silhouette hums an electric buzz.
It’s the way her sign, the tin box points.
Neon to her door.

She’s a mystery series in a smoky dive bar.
Been read too much, watched too little.
There’s trickles and drips of secrets leaking out,
So, here we go, the story’s told.
Smoke rises from her fingertips,
Like steam around a cold steel lid.
Her arms hang low like wires over an alley,
Waitin’ to burn whoever roams close.
Her smile hangin’ like a frozen door on a rusty track.
It’s framed by graffiti painted on her lips.
Her buzzard shadow swirling up in the air,
Looking for her dead man to feed.

Neon tubes twist in her eyes, the white mirrors glow.
The colors change when she flickers a wink
Neon tubes twist in her eyes, the white mirrors glow.
She’s looking at me; I know the game.
Her silhouette hums an electric buzz.
It’s the way her sign, the tin box points.
Neon to her door.

She’s a storm wrapped up in black top glaze
The neon hides her monster inside, no beauty there.
Her mystery’s solved, her series has ended.
This is her last call, no buzzing again.
No hanging wires, rusty doors, steaming lids,
Or flickering lights. The dot stopped her story.
I’ll stay on the street and out of her alley,
It’s the way the neon points, yeah.
The way the neon points Lighting white mirrors