Friday night in Brooklyn,
Barfly on the prowl,
Bloodshot eyes, harrowing,
she wears an empty scowl.
Whiskey scented memories,
In a blue alcoholic haze,
Murky shades of nicotine,
Obscure her better days.
Barfly, no beauty to my eyes,
Barfly, seen better days.
Barfly, a flower slowly dies,
Barfly, beauty slips away.
She views the world through jaded eyes,
Expectations failed to meet demands.
At night she finds comfort in an empty glass,
with a myriad of one-night stands.
She drinks a toast to loneliness,
infused with a bourbon bouquet.
Seduction stole her innocence, long ago
When sobriety slipped away.
Barfly, no beauty to my eyes,
Barfly, seen better days.
Barfly, a flower slowly dies,
Barfly, beauty slips away.
A midnight dance on satin sheets,
in the arms of a stranger�s embrace,
the remnants of beauty and innocence,
lay tarnished by self disgrace.
Happiness, like her lover�s touch,
Fade by the stroke of dawn,
As sunrise filters through, tattered sheers,
Her hopes for the future are gone.
Barfly, no beauty to my eyes,
Barfly, seen better days.
Barfly, a flower slowly dies,
Barfly, beauty slips away.
B.B. 2003