even if you visit Paris in the spring
it never meant a thing
you skinny little bitch
doing coke-a-cola in a junkie ditch
yeah, i wanna know who's smoke
is hanging between your lips
hungry to please your hips
but you're cold
looking for some heat
taking everyone new you meet
and leaving them for dead
taking everyone new you meet
and leaving them for dead
well, i ain't going down
into that coal black town
i'm looking for a piece of air
and i won't find it there
so sorry there's a needle in your head
but it's not my stick
you're making me sick
lashing whip on a hard afternoon
coming again but way too soon
no it doesn't get better
even if you visit Paris in the spring
it never meant a thing
you skinny little bitch
doing coke-a-cola in a junkie ditch
kicking a habit out the door
thinking nevermore
yeah, i wanna know whos' tattoo
is on your ass smeared in blue
their name outlined in red
and i wonder what he said
and i wonder how you felt
as you watched his rocket melt?
did you crawl away with the score
or turn around to ask for more?
so sorry you've lost track of time
you once were a friend of mine
but i couldn't help
watching you melt
no it doesn't get better
even if you visit Paris in the spring
you can't remember anything
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave your thoughts.