The lady is a tramp

She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight
She loves the theater, but doesn't come late
She'd never bother, with people she'd hate
That's why the lady is a tramp

Doesn't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those girls
That's why the lady is a tramp

She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without care
She's broke, but it's o'k
She hates California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp

Doesn't like dice games, with sharpies and frauds
Won't go to Harlem, in Lincolns or Fords
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those broads
That's why the lady is a tramp

I like the green grass under my shoes, what can I lose?
I'm flat! That's that! I'm all alone when I lower my lamp:
That's why the lady is a tramp! Don't know the reason for cocktails at five.
I don't like flying - I'm glad I'm alive.
I crave affection but not when I drive:
That's why the lady is a tramp!

Folks went to London and left me behind.
I missed the crowning - Queen Mary didn't mind.
Won't play Scarlett in "Gone With the Wind":
That's why the lady is a tramp!

I like to hang my hat where I please, sail with the breeze.
No dough - Heigh - Ho! I still like Roosevelt
and think he's a champ:
That's why the lady is a tramp.

Girls get massages, they cry and they moan –
Tell Lizzie Arden to leave me alone.
I'm not so hot but my shape is my own:
That's why the lady is a tramp!

The food at Rector’s is perfect, no doubt.
I wouldn't know what the Ritz is about.
I drop a nickel and coffee comes out:
That's why the lady is a tramp!

I like the sweet fresh rain in my face.
Diamonds and lace - no got, so what?
For Robert Taylor I whistle and stamp:
That's why the lady is a tramp!

Originally written by Frank Sinatra

State of mind for now.

Add:

I also don't know how to play hard to get
when you're in love whats the point to play the net
I let myself be and not walk the ramp
And that's why , my friends, the lady is a tramp!

Daddy's Little Girl

Most people start with ashes and as life turns old, things turn gold. They beckon all the beauty and serene, rise and shine. Leave the old lives behind. And then, just never look back. So heroic their progress seems. So apt, so desirable and so deserving. I envy them. I belong to those ditched cast of people whose past never leaves them alone. Not because of it was dark and dreary, but because it was beautiful. It was flawless. Had I made and drawn my life myself, I still wont have changed a thing. And then one day at a time, it all changed.

I started with everything in my fists, just I never knew how to hold it right. And then I lost it all.

I have this lovely memory of going swimming with my Dad for the first time. I was very little, tiny really. And I had seen a swimming pool before, just never been allowed to get inside one. My mother was there, my little brother. I didn’t have a swimming costume so my dad just made me wear those little boy shorts and told me I’m good to go. Now, I could’ve been a little girl but I had seen TV and had some idea how women dressed. And I was so embarrassed. So the tiny me, shyly came out of the changing room, hiding behind Papa and covering my chest with my hands. It was so hilarious (to everyone else there) that my mom almost slipped in the pool laughing it out. And I had no idea why everyone was laughing. I thought they’re laughing because Papa has such hairy legs. But when I realized they were laughing at me, I bolted right past Mom, covered myself in a towel and never spoke to anyone the whole day. Till in the evening they bought me a new red swim suit and a swimming cap. But they laughed still.

It was so special. When I was little I used to sleep on my Papa’s chest. When I was little I remember how Papa once told me that he wished he had another girl like me and not my little brother. I remember my grand ma telling me that when Mom was pregnant they had only thought of a name for a girl, not a boy at all. I remember how he used to gather all the kids in the family and play games with them. I remember being jealous when Papa paid too much attention to the other grown up kids of the family. I had always wanted to be like my Dad. I used to applaud anything he liked and rejected anything he didn’t. No plain milk for Dad, no plain milk for me. White shirts to bed for Papa, white shirts to bed for me. Since I never had White shirts, I used to just wear Dad’s. It made me feel even more special to wear his clothes. It made me feel how I was his favorite in the world. I used to get my hair cut like his. I even tried to shave my face once, just to be like Papa. I would’ve done anything for him. Pity, I’m the person who took everything away.

We were so happy, my mom and dad were the best parents in the world. They were strict about somethings, for example sleepovers. But for everything else, they were amazing. We had a cozy little place, great dinner conversations, so much to tell each other, we were happy to just be around each other. And then it all went wrong.

My broken relationship broke down everything. Sadly, irreparably. The problem is he loved me too much. So do I, and that’s why it hurts. I cant forgive myself. Papa has a heart of a little girl, and I wish I could take it all away for him. Get him a better world. Woudnt have made so many mistakes. He still wanders in those troubles and I feel helpless when I can’t get him back to be in the present tense. I feel responsible and guilty. He just never was the same man again. And I miss him. I miss him terribly. And I cant see you suffering like that Dad. I wish I could go back to being the same stupid midget I was when I hid behind you for everything, and I swear to god, Dad, this time around I’ll listen to each word that you say.

Just come back to me. Please. Just the way we were. Lets all go back to dining room. Just once more. Come back to yourself. Come back to me. I miss you around me.

Too Many Questions, Too Few Answers

Why? Why did you have to be in my life in the first place? And now, I don’t have a say in getting you out of it too? I want to get over it, but probably that’s what my problem is. I never get over anything. I always feel like it all goes on forever, it’s all connected. And just keeps getting complex by the day. And I keep accumulating these unforsaken memories, moment by moment, every day of my life. I’m getting old and tired you know. And there are quite a few I want to get rid of. And I never forget anything. And I don’t forgive myself. Ever. Probably the reasons why my sentences are short. Sometimes I think I’ll do everyone around me a little favour if I stop being this hopeful. I’m really such a fool.

The biggest fear, the one I think is a jinx to even utter, is that I’m not hopeful. And I don’t want to believe it, I’m the only person left now, who’s counting on me. And I don’t want to let myself down, again. I really just want to be strong. I really just want a plain life. Maybe even a petty and insignificant life, that’s great actually. Anything normal works.

I hate myself for letting this happen. Love, love me do. Sob sob sad lady.