Judy Garland

Excuse me, darlin', to disturb you
Could you spare a bit of what the lord’s left for you?
Bless your solemn, unending virtue
Lest your savior up desert you
Jesus couldn’t quell the pains of America in trucks and trains and tractor
trailers on the range, barmen counting out their change and Goldwyn Mayer,
Fred Astaire slicking back his oily hair, snort benzedrine off of a mirror,
slaps her ass, «how are you dear?» and all the preachers whistle nervous,
stare down devils in the back of churches, meet their luscious daughters in
the smalls beneath the boughs of birches
And Judy Garland hit the bathroom floor of her cold apartment 'bove a Chelsea
store and all the drag queens and all the whores couldn’t get poor Judy back up
off of her laurels, and Judy
Wanna put my foot down on Manhattan
Watch it float down like a boogie board
See the water bulging through the avenue
Watch the cool kids look out their window, bored
As their mother drops the rolling pin, the radio says
Judy garland hit the bathroom floor of her cold apartment 'bove a Chelsea store
and all the drag queens and all the whores couldn’t get poor Judy back up off
of her laurels, and Judy
Judy Garland you’re a beauty, darlin'
Oh, Judy