Tourist Woman - Cass McCombs

For Tourist Woman

The itching is turning to fever

And then to form

For Tourist Woman

Insecurities are bunk-pollen for the swarm

And vice-versa

The swarm, turning to fury

Captures a prisoner

Tourist Woman is unhappy

With the meager conditions

They have given her

From Oxford to UCLA

To empoverished streets

Of a Bengali village

T.W.

fights for nothing

Believes in nothing

Except an image

The image in her mind

Is of vague origin

Of, mostly, western result

Somewhat pyramid, somewhat cross

Somewhat a mongrel cult

Like the old man

Who slept his life away

Romantics are doomed

(and that’s a good thing)