I met a gin soaked, bar-room queen in New York City. She tried to take me upstairs for a ride. I had to put up some kind of a fight. She covered me in roses. Her papa was a Rolling Stone. And like him, wherever she laid her hat was her home. She dressed in lace and danced in boots. She built things and wrote other things. Brown sugar. I followed her from the East Village down to a market in New Orleans. Lady of the house, blonde english blood runs hot. Rock n roll soul.
It's the honky tonk woman. Gimme, gimme, gimme, the honky tonk blues.
free bird suit by minimale animale
photos by Lauren Engel