The arm of velvet black corsage
and turtle waxes in the sky,
is like the lace of red mirage

That hits you with a lead massage
of rhubarb wire in the eye,
the arm of velvet black corsage.

The rubber bomb of banned barrage,
is falling from the stars on high,
is like the lace of red mirage.

Saving face, this blunt visage,
is holding tongues of passersby,
the arm of velvet black corsage.

The gosling down of grey garage,
a safety net of alley ties,
is like the lace of red mirage.

Thinkers take the low passage
and leave their slice of humble pie.
The arm of velvet black corsage
is like the lace of red mirage.