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Beck
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Tropicalia
when they beat
on a broken guitar
and on the streets
they reek of tropical charms
the embassies lie in hideous shards
where tourists snore and decay
when they dance in a reptile blaze
you wear a mask
an equatorial haze
into the past
a colonial maze
where there's no more confetti to throw
you didn't know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldn't sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be evicted
you're out of luck
you're singing funeral songs
to the studs
they're anabolic and bronze
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they seem to strut
in their millennial fogs
'til they fall down and deflate
you didn't know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldn't sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be evicted
now you've had your fun
under an air-conditioned sun
it's burned into your eyes
leaves you plain and left behind
see them eyes and fall
into the jaws of a pestilent love
you didn't know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldn't sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be a victim
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