Anais Mitchell


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Riding on a sea of brass
And colored beads and broken glass
Behind a painted china mask
She might be looking at you
She's got her shade up to her chin
A dirty little bourbon grin
And all the saints go marching in
To try and get her number

She'll tell you what you want to hear
The secret thing to make you feel
Like you were part of something real
You were something special
And meanwhile you can try to hide
The big old hollow place inside
The ruins of your Yankee pride
You might as well surrender
To Orleanna

You'll be going home she knows
Tomorrow is another show
But you'll be broke before you go
She will be the richer
The little Cajun girl in there
Will run along and play somewhere
But you won't know and you won't care
You got just what you paid for
From Orleanna

Autor(es): Anaïs Mitchell

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