Indian girl

Indian girl
From India I mean
All dressed up and sexy
Parisian girl all the way
Second generation
Coming home late on Line 9
Poor part of town
She’s smiling and tipsy
If Mom & Pop
Hadn’t emigrated
She’d still be in India
From some lower caste
Somewhere
Toiling for some rich Indian fuck
Getting forced married
To some poor fuck
Cleaning rich fuck’s shit
As far as she knows
She’s better off Parisian
Yet there’s some sadness in her
Troubles at home
With Mom & Pop
I guess

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Pale rider

You know how a horse
Can smell the stable
Alright, so I’m cool
Line 9 the same
There at Belleville, five Chinese
Three men, two girls
Speaking in Chinese, whatever
World wide world
Usually, in the last train
I’m among the drunks and the derelicts
And nobody cares
It must be early for so many good people to be there
They look happy
Good for them
The gay Paris I guess
Who wants to hear about misery
Especially misery of folks you don’t know
And don’t really care about
So you look elsewhere as to not cross
Someone’s eyes
And you listen to the boogie
In the hope of home.

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