Cracks appear in those new York sidewalks, a scalper sells tickets with burning fingertips. Lady Gagas like a cat with a saucer of milk at Madison square garden tonight.
All those counter-intuitive kisses and nights I don’t remember, no cure will fix it, my drinking deathwish.
Still tonight the show goes on. Dancers defy gravity. Abracadabra sings the Lady, but the language of magic belongs to the poets and ends in refrigerated rooms and tagged toes.
Who will lead the parade of stinking humanity? A girl with the voice of an Angel and a dangerous face. She rises 6 inches above the barefoot innocent, a sexual predator with a number 1 record.
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