And the light dies down on Broadway
the next time someone asks me what i'm all dressed up for
and i smile, halfway, and kick my sneakers, and mumbleblush through it
because i haven't time to explain how appearance means nothing if we make it mean nothing
and high-waisted pants with pineapple socks or a hoodie dress and combat boots aren't only fascination for shallow influence
but if i dress up all nice often enough this won't have to be a question, will it, so
i guess i'll just say, for you to see
and hope i don't only believe it
(i've tomorrow to be dressing for)