She didn't watch the movie she just ate the
greasy popcorn and listened to the couples kiss
and run in and out of the theater
The price she pays to soak her fingers in
the butter drain her strength into the gutter is
two odd hours behind bars
But she lives alone and the familiar scent
of her apartment was suffocating
So sitting like a watched pot she's sticking out
like a sour thumb Tonight the screen seems very
hot and she is not so young
Hollywood, what are you good for?
The terminal
Pop icons are dropping off
Teen idols collapse on the sidewalk
The breakfast club is underground and an
ambulance is making rounds through
Hollywood
You can take a vow of silence and wake up an
appliance with tubes and neadles and antennas
in case you don't feel embarrassed
Hear the smattering of applause while they're gathering some gauze
They say whether you've got cash to burn or not
a little crash will earn you a spot in the weekly reader
And intention is important if you want a shot at
redemption but don't tell them you feel nothing
if you want a shot of morphine
Scar tissue is repugnant but it doesn't turn
teenager's stomachs It just makes you seem a
little wiser They think you need a broader
shoulder to cry on
So the stars fall into the street as they leave the
hospital with no blood left in their cheeks only
junk in their mail
Hollywood, what are you good for?
A funeral