Chelsea Tractor Poem by Kevin East

You and your Chelsea Tractor
And as a matter of Max Factor
Made up like a diva
The archetypal deceiver.
You speak with a mouth full of plums
Arrive to a roll of the drums
Yet i know that you feel alone
Shouting on your 'Android' phone
Pouting in a man void zone.
Nobody's looking, smell what's cooking chef
You blow your own trumpet with a treble clef
But like it or not- the world's tone deaf.
You and your Chelsea Tractor
Off to your chiropractor
But it's a soulmate that you lack
To take the monkey off your back.
And your parties, lush though inane
Any excuse for a rush of cocaine
Momentarily eases your grief
But your delusion will be your masked thief.
Botox and low frocks just make you look cheap
Keep your heart in a box
But allow just a peep
Laughing too loud but in silence you weep.
Oh please come down my lady on high
You painted the town red
So now let it dry
Just wipe the tear from your clown face
And honey just grow old with grace.