Chloë is a borough socialist
She insists there's not much more to it
Than drinks with a certain element
Of downtown art criticism

I benefit more than I should admit
From her unscrupulous therapist
How Benzedrine's supposed to address
Your shoplifting's anybody's guess

Please don't ever change

That story that continues to persist
How you could have dropped the cigarette
On the trip, your boyfriend's canoe flipped
Doesn't loose your grip on me a bit

She and I, we were inseparable
Till Ma called my East Coast uncle to
Ascertain the welfare of her son
Howard said: Mary, you'd better come

Her name is Chloë
And he's talkin' awful strange

But the more they abhor you
The more I adore you
I would, but I can't
My heart don't stand a chance
Of even a glance
Her soul is a pitch black expanse

Summer ended on the balcony
She put on Flight of the Valkyries
At her thirty first birthday party
Took a leap into the autumn leaves

Written by: Josh Tillman
Sent by Renata.
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