Uranian Blues

I’m awake half the night

With my pills and delusions

Illusions like stage fright

Night sweats and confusion


At a quarter to three

Miss Uranias in my head

I think she’s a he

In my red satin bed


She’s a cheap circus artist

A miss with a twist

In a rhinestone tiara

And a strength in her fist


At a quarter to four

I pour absinthe and gin

There’s a knock at the door

And my man lets him in

Miss Uranias androgynous

Both a he and a she

A sexually ambiguous debauchee’s fantasy


She’s a cheap circus artist A ventriloquist

With a hundred different voices

A chimera and a sphinx


At a quarter past four I still don’t know her name

If she’s same sex attracted

Or a whore on the game She’s a shape shifting clown

On the town and the make And her sexual credentials are either way fake


Fake

She’s a fake

She’s a fucking fake