The Movie Star

(Aquarius, One of Those Southern California Winters)

Another landscape. Another land.
Diamonds on garbage on dirty sand.
Police choppers chop over blue swimming pools.
Neon means nighttime for pavement to cool.

Now that we know where the bodies lie.
Now that we know where the bodies lie.

Violence and shade. Rage behind Ray-Bans.
A shock of orange lipstick over shark-white teeth.
You've got the top down and a cigarette going.
Hermes scarf and a cotton tee.

Now that we know who we really are.
Now that we know who we really are.

Everyone is a movie star.
Traveling south in a rented car.
Now that we know who we really are.
Everyone is a movie star.

And we're ready for our close-ups on closed-circuit TV,
From the 7-11 and satellite telemetry.
A city with no heart, just temptation.
And you drive through its center as you claim no relation.

Drive by. Drive by.
Now that we know where the bodies lie.

Virtue was your vice. Knowledge has its price:
The shark mouth laughs, kissing a poster of itself,
Smearing orange--a fame built not to last
In a city of glass flame burning the past.

You think violent tendencies melt in the sun?
You think only gang members carry a gun?

Everyone is a movie star.
Traveling south in a rented car.
Now that we know what we really are.
Everyone is a movie star.


© Alan Reade, 2001