Tropicalia

Beck
Mutations
Tropicalia
when they beat
on a broken guitar
and on the streets
they reek of tropical charms
the embassies lie in hideous shards
where tourists snore and decay
when they dance in a reptile blaze
you wear a mask
an equatorial haze
into the past
a colonial maze
where theres no more confetti to throw
you didnt know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldnt sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be evicted
youre out of luck
youre singing funeral songs
to the studs
theyre anabolic and bronze
they seem to strut
in their millennial fogs
til they fall down and deflate
you didnt know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldnt sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be evicted
now youve had your fun
under an air-conditioned sun
its burned into your eyes
leaves you plain and left behind
see them eyes and fall
into the jaws of a pestilent love
you didnt know what to say to yourself
love is a poverty you couldnt sell
misery waiting in vague hotels
to be a victim