Genie In a Gin Bottle

Her lips caress another cigarette A fading belle looking for love The smoke veils a creature of habit Chasing a young girls dream But this Genie found the palace doors locked Her youth distilled into a bottle of gin Diluted by these streets of sin Now her makeup hides the bottles content Silk fingernails deluding the smokers hand Her wig of blonde hiding the soul beneath The ladder in her stockings, Torn like her Hollywood dreams Her perfume sickly sweet, Masking the odor from yesterday’s gin The ashtray is full, Cheap lipstick covers the tab ends Her vigil to find happiness But he never comes. Only a stream of chancer’s Wanting to spin lady luck one more time Fuelled by the promise of paradise A vacation from life And a brag for Jack Daniels Under neon lights A Beautiful girl content in her gin bottle Her saviour from this cruel world An inner voice plays in her mind “I could have been a movie star” A role she can play all too well But morning light never lies Her beauty, has fled, left on the pillow Like some Monet’s impression. Regret lays sprawled out Like yesterday’s salad, Thrown out with the rubbish For the slugs of corruption to eat . Her aging face revealing every rejection Every turned down script, every broken dream A lifetime of heart break. But she still plays her part well Play it again Sam And another cigarette, The same mistake, the same men, From all the gin bars in the world She had to choose this one Another lottery ticket to litter her despair. No winning numbers here Her silent acceptance speech, Laid bare in her blood shot eyes of regret A mouthwash of gin And the genie of love returns to her bottle Her legs bruised and varicose, Testament to waitress by day and genie by night. He closes the door His only thought to get away, not his finest hour Jack Daniels his moral escape goat Nosey neighbour’s his jury They bare witness to his walk of shame She opens the curtains, And sees him fade into the faceless crowd Alone again, a full ashtray and an empty gin bottle Symbols of last night’s play The mirror torments her image, As she drinks coffee through smoke stained teeth A wave of her head, a smile And a daydream Tonight, her prince will save her This is her delusion, her reason to live But time is running out For she is part of life’s crap game. The dice rolls once more Will it be happiness? or loneliness? But in the end, deep down she knows The house always wins in tinsel town.