Jenny and Margie, a busted up tale

A Tale of Jenny and MargieLet me tell you about Jenny, just a little tale I heard.How the best of intentions don’t make a difference in the worldwhen you're half drunk and half deadand up since last Thursday.I can’t tell you how she got there - it’s illegal, but don’t worry.She made a decision to change things, so never you mind.Now she’s limping and shouting and bleedingfrom over her eye.She’s busted up and smiling and youcan’t make her singing stop.She’s dusted some bad guys and ain’t stopping till she’s popped.Now Margie may be homeless or justright at home on the street.She’d been losing her hearing since thebombs turned on repeat.So she’s waiting for the PTSD to hit her in her perch.‘Cause there's no stopping, poppin’ pills like tic-tac’s in church.So yeah, there’s guns and bullets and wrath,and yeah, Jenny and Margie are from different ends of a path.But come morning they’ll both be free of the warand sleeping in a gutter or smoking some tar.And the sex might be better if either one caredbut nobody’s counting when soccer moms have been spared.So don’t be mad if they’re out there getting it done.The monsters aren’t hunting since they can’t no longer run.And your life’s been saved and your kids are fine,so don’t you pay Margie and Jenny no mindif they’re making a ruckus, a couple chicks making light,‘cause the death won’t stop if no one’s willing to fight.Photography by Lucidity LambPhotography by Lucidity Lamb