White chick at the carnival.
She longs to shop,
flip-flop between Stiletto and Pravda,
but her father made his daughter
come with to the carousel,
the burly strongman,
and the Bhutanese immigrants selling trinkets.
Now she’s on this whirlwind.
She swirls, curls and unfurls,
and she thinks she’s gonna
Poor valley girl
With a shirt like guacamole
Is that a taco shell on her Gucci skirt?
She swears vengeance, moping on the benches
Roping in her friend Bobbi.
She’s sobbing, her golden hair ties are gone.
She should never have gotten on that ride
And now pride’s not the only thing lost
Her earrings were tossed and so’s her lip gloss
Poor valley girl,
With her pearls scattered
Hand bag in tatters, it’s too late
As her accessories have gone to their grave
Poor valley girl on the tilt-a-whirl
Now that her things belong to a valley squirrel.