Hello, my loves! This stories is a basic combo of two things: "Tiny Dancer"
by Elton John and quotes from Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block.
Please R&R
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me! None what so ever. Except for the arranging of the words and such together.
Blue jean baby, LA lady A tiny love-warrior who would grow up to wear feathers and run swift and silent through the LA canyons.
Seamstress for the band Cherokee braided and braided the strands of fur together. Then she attached the braids to a pairs of Raphael's old jeans. She put extra fur along the hips so the pants really looked like shaggy goat legs. She made a tail with the rest of the fur.
Pretty eyes Witch Baby, with her deep-set, luminous, jacaranda-blossom- colored eyes.
Pirate smile They giggled the way they used to when they were very young.
You married a music man It was a song he had written when the band first started.
Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand Cherokee danced in puddles and caught raindrops off flower petals with her tongue.
Now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand She spun and spun. She had imagined she was the color of red flame, but she was whiter than ever.
Jesus freaks out in the streets, handing tickets out for God There is dirt everywhere, real filth. We should not be able to see air.
Turning back, she just laughs. The boulevard is not that bad. When Cherokee got home, she thought of the Coyote's expression and blinked away the image.
Piano man, he makes his stand in their auditorium Angel Juan made a the slash marks across his bare chest like a warrior painting himself before the fight.
Looking on, she sings the song. The words she knows, the tune she hums The voice doesn't answer. Only goes on singing- "R-A-G-G-M-O-P-P."
But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly Then curl up beside him in her teepee the way they used to.
Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer. Count the headlights in the highway They run through the streets of Hollywood but Cherokee hardly noticed the fallen stars, the neon cocktail glasses.
Lay me in sheets on linen. You had a busy day today Her head felt heavy. A slow ache spread through her hips and thighs.
Blue jean baby, LA lady She would run through the house like a mad cat, playing torpedo games.
Seamstress for the band Cherokee took wires and bent them into wing-shaped frames. Then se covered the frames with thin, stiff gauze and over that she pasted the feathers the wind had brought.
Pretty eyes Making her look like a strange animal with glowing purple eyes.
Pirate smile I never giggled like that.
You married a music man And angel Juan plays the song on his guitar.
Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand Holding hands, jumping up and down, hiphopping, shimmying, spinning and swimming the air.
Now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand And she was rippling and flashing above them.
But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near only you and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly Afterward, Cherokee was washed ashore with her head on his chest. She could hear herself inside of him.
Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer. Count the headlights on the highway As he cradled her head in one hand, he began kissing her throat, the insides of her elbows and wrists for a long time. Then he kissed her forehead and temples.
Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today The bed lifted the house, and the lawn and the garden and the street and the night, one ocean rocking them, tossing them, an ocean of liquid coral roses.
Please tellers me what you think. I need feedback. PLEASE!
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me! None what so ever. Except for the arranging of the words and such together.
Blue jean baby, LA lady A tiny love-warrior who would grow up to wear feathers and run swift and silent through the LA canyons.
Seamstress for the band Cherokee braided and braided the strands of fur together. Then she attached the braids to a pairs of Raphael's old jeans. She put extra fur along the hips so the pants really looked like shaggy goat legs. She made a tail with the rest of the fur.
Pretty eyes Witch Baby, with her deep-set, luminous, jacaranda-blossom- colored eyes.
Pirate smile They giggled the way they used to when they were very young.
You married a music man It was a song he had written when the band first started.
Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand Cherokee danced in puddles and caught raindrops off flower petals with her tongue.
Now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand She spun and spun. She had imagined she was the color of red flame, but she was whiter than ever.
Jesus freaks out in the streets, handing tickets out for God There is dirt everywhere, real filth. We should not be able to see air.
Turning back, she just laughs. The boulevard is not that bad. When Cherokee got home, she thought of the Coyote's expression and blinked away the image.
Piano man, he makes his stand in their auditorium Angel Juan made a the slash marks across his bare chest like a warrior painting himself before the fight.
Looking on, she sings the song. The words she knows, the tune she hums The voice doesn't answer. Only goes on singing- "R-A-G-G-M-O-P-P."
But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly Then curl up beside him in her teepee the way they used to.
Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer. Count the headlights in the highway They run through the streets of Hollywood but Cherokee hardly noticed the fallen stars, the neon cocktail glasses.
Lay me in sheets on linen. You had a busy day today Her head felt heavy. A slow ache spread through her hips and thighs.
Blue jean baby, LA lady She would run through the house like a mad cat, playing torpedo games.
Seamstress for the band Cherokee took wires and bent them into wing-shaped frames. Then se covered the frames with thin, stiff gauze and over that she pasted the feathers the wind had brought.
Pretty eyes Making her look like a strange animal with glowing purple eyes.
Pirate smile I never giggled like that.
You married a music man And angel Juan plays the song on his guitar.
Ballerina, you must have seen her, dancing in the sand Holding hands, jumping up and down, hiphopping, shimmying, spinning and swimming the air.
Now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand And she was rippling and flashing above them.
But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near only you and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly Afterward, Cherokee was washed ashore with her head on his chest. She could hear herself inside of him.
Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer. Count the headlights on the highway As he cradled her head in one hand, he began kissing her throat, the insides of her elbows and wrists for a long time. Then he kissed her forehead and temples.
Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today The bed lifted the house, and the lawn and the garden and the street and the night, one ocean rocking them, tossing them, an ocean of liquid coral roses.
Please tellers me what you think. I need feedback. PLEASE!
