Truman Capote - The Curious Yellow Blues/Music for Chameleons // Welcome to Violence lyrics

You punch in the face and red flowers bloom. Like lashes on a dark back bulging into swoon, and we're supposed to feel actual and whole to that living myth in your mouth spilling out as blood and howl; that rubaiyat, that double bolted hipness, and just rollick in it. Cool, we did. I promise. To remain as promiscuous as this very moment and as hard to please too. I won't let its beauty make me lazy. I felt the disorientation of sweet violence and became drunk with it and ate so much gold I witnessed the eternal sphinx smiling through his lie into the glistening cowardice of a caged lion-like, and lunged right into my iron limbs, my wonder streak, my gla** crease of attitude and tease and aloof and do you know who I am—made them into a griot family, entreating, members don't get weary, members don't get weary. Treat me how you hear me. Do you hear me? Are we here/now? Neither black nor white, a ripe golden rum colored (not that it mattered) aristocrat, stallion, item, totem, something else. Most people. Are ashamed of their fascination, is all. I don't blame them for how loud and shapeless the privacy gets before it ruptures and turns a race. And these days. These days I feel like a motherless child, falling in love with father, brave enough— brave enough for anything but silence