GIRL AT SALVATION HALL.
It must have been around 1967
That he met her in Salvation Hall
And she was there for the handouts
And drinks and advice on how to
Get off the drugs shit and she said
To him what you think of my tattoos?
And he looked at them and put
His finger along them to see if they
Were for real and she said get your
Fucking finger off of me man who
Do you think you are? He shrugged
His shoulders and said just making
Sure they were for real. Real? You
Think I’d put transfers on myself?
These are as real as my ass and
Don’t think that’s an invitation man.
Why you’re as bad as my old man
He couldn’t keep himself to himself
If his two bit life depended on it and
She lit up a cigarette and stared at
Him taking each aspect of him standing
There amongst the goody two shoes
Types with their tambourines and hymns
And uniforms and she said what you
Think of my tattoos then? Aren’t they
The works aren’t they what you would
Have always wanted? My old lady said
Only whores have tattoos or those queer
Dames who hang in those kind of bars
And go to bed together and she’d blush
Her ass pink to talk about it. He said
Yeah fine tattoos especially the ones on
Your thighs and she smirked and took in
A big drag on the cigarette and let out the
Smoke real slow and said I share a room
With Dennis and he’s hooked pretty bad
And can’t get it up much anymore and so
We just lay there at night counting stars and
Listen to music on the old hifi he picked up
From a friend’s place while they were away
And I feel he wants to fuck me but he’s out of
It and so I just remember him as he was and
The good times and the way the moon shines
Through the window lighting up his face and
Showing each needle hole since his fall from grace.
