Gosde: Turkish, Female, 21
I stole a jasmine to please her
But she turned out to own a jasmine bower
Her cellphone rang and she cried:
That bitch! She stole my boyfriend
(A woman after my heart)
She took us to the Old City and her car stalled
It was the mechanic's fault
She charmed old men into helping her
in a minute she was gone in a whirr
The mechanic fixed it all in a trice
The gasoline company picked up the tab
(Their petrol had lead)
But who will repair a broken heart?
So like all criminals she revisits the scene of crime
And she bides her time
Gets on the plane or defames her rival long distance
The rival, pretends to patch up, then impersonates her
In a word, it's all very Byzantine
We visit the market where her father was a grocer
The grandma is into make up and health foods
The granddaughter into atheism and men
The money keeps going down
And the hemlines keep going up
She can tango, hip-hop, rap, tap, chacha, jive
Her car is her home
And her heart a beehive
She talks peace She sleeps with the enemy
Gosde of the jasmine bower
Tomorrow comes to visit our tower
She's a good girl at 21
(She been bad since 14)
But by now the bird of her soul has flown.