I need some good swing Some good beat Something that pumps the blood in my veins Gets me to start moving when all I want to do Is fall down and sleep I need a fix, a basket case Something to keep me awake Anything, Jack, that fits my needs will do I need a scar, a pain-driven license That allows me to go anywhere trespassing is so apparent Even on myself, my body The one I exist in, the one that holds my mind My thoughts, and my aspirations I need a friend, a companion A sexual partner and a lover all at the same time Crossing the invisible line Where sexuality used to be a border But after so many generations It just began to fade away Leaving in front of it freedom of choice Freedom to be with whoever you want to No more labels, no more hardships No more fearing for your life at three in the afternoon Hiding, concealing unneccesary now The moralists will tell you it's a bag thing They will tell you everything's a bad thing Except for religious ceremonies and good, clean fun Is clean moving your feet to the beat of the drum man Faster and faster as he challenged you to keep up Spinning, being caught by your partner of choice Skirt flying up just high enough to catch the glimpse of More leg than can be justified in a public area Is clean smoking cigarettes with your comrades on a Tuesday night Over hot cups of coffee Discussing religion, existence, Heroin and music, The great writers of the twentieth century Half of which you haven't even bothered to read yet But you just know Defying all conversational tactics you were brought up to learn Swearing to emphasize the most logical points The latte man next to your table finds you brilliant But the lady with the bread money thinks otherwise All in all, the music still continues Searching for anything with a beat Anything that will set your soul on fire Make you dance until you've lost all breath Lungs begging for a cigarette, you step aside and have another with friends Laughing and crying Half a glass of scotch in one hand Passion in the other
10/21/01
