Solitary girl I have been. Living in a cell made of skin. Sealed inside myself, nothing gets out or gets in. I cant feel what you feel. . Show me the way to my heart.
I stutter like a broken clutch. When you touch me too much. My tounge gets twisted in your twirl. You say I'm not your kind of girl. A spider underneath my skin.
Morning in a bar:. Daylight and an old beer bottle.. Sun's the only star,. In a sky that went from grey to yellow.. . And the flashes. of the scene I made,.
Once there was a time when I could say. I was your friend and you were mine. But all that's history. . I'll never know the reason why you thought. That you could hang me out to dry.
Once there was a time when I could say. I was your friend and you were mine. But all that's history. . I'll never know the reason why you thought. That you could hang me out to dry.
In this concrete jungle void of charms. With the take-out, porn, and car alarms. No one's bringing in armies in. to keep the girls from speaking sin. Blocks are stacking.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na. . There's a fork in the road, there's a spoon in the sky. Come and take a ride with me. Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na.
My head is heavy and bent like a crane. The wrecking ball blues are coming again. And Latham says, "Babe, you know life is a ride". But living's no fun when you're dead inside.
The leather boots I was born in. Are tattered, torn out and worn in. My skin is cracked as the desert ground. . The dusty road that's ahead will. Be my board and my bed till.
Lucy is gazing, out into space. She has starry eyes, starry eyes. That light up her face, like an angel. Little girl, little girl questioning me. She says, "Why doesn't everyone.
I've been hanging out in the boredom basement. Building up the files on my MP3. Homemade rockets and a load of laundry --. It's been a real party ever since you set me free.
I left home at the age of thirteen. With a fistful of cash and a dirty magazine. Now, I never cared for the things that I seen. I just want to be in a dirty magazine.
It's Sunday night, I am curled up in my room. The TV light, fills my heart like a balloon. I hold it in as best I can, I know I'm just another fan. But I can't help feeling I could love this secret agent man.
It's Sunday night, I am curled up in my room. The TV light fills my heart like a balloon. I hold it in as best I can, I know I'm just another fan. But I can't help feeling, I could love this secret agent man.
A cheap and evil girl sets out on the city. She's moistened every curl, she's poisonously pretty. And the unsuspecting fool falls prey. As the dim detective's lead astray.
Nobody on the road. Nobody on the beach. I feel it in the air. The summer's out of reach. . Empty lake, empty streets. Sun goes down alone. I'm driving by your house.
It's six o'clock, the sun goes down. The hotel shudders with the sound Of Grim and Lily's kiss good-bye. . (Oh, baby, not good-bye). Tired of their life of crime they make a plan for one last time.
Radios, TV shows. Fill my holes with your goodies. I sold my privacy. So that I would always be pretty. And I can tell you that. The best things are free.
All that is mourned through the death of agony.. Through a secret that is well kept, and locked inside of me.. There's a pattern to the cause: something goes to waste..
To feel the same, as you look into these eyes.. Did you ever think that you would be here?. Here, alone, for life.. To drag it down, when what you mean is to take control..