| My life is in a turmoil,
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| My thighs are black and blue
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| My sheets are stained, so is my brain
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| What’s a girl to do?
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| Oh what’s a girl to do?
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| I passed out with a novel
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| Or needle in my hand
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| I passed out with a rag doll,
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| And I passed out with a man
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| I say my three hail Mary’s,
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| I dearly paint my face
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| My friends decay around me
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| And I view them with distaste
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| My life is in a turmoil,
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| My thighs are black and blue
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| My sheets are stained, so is my brain
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| What’s a girl to do?
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| Oh what’s a girl to do?
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| Well some girls have a mission,
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| And some girls have their work.
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| Some marry with precision;
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| And some just dish the dirt!
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| And once I had a lover,
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| and I once had a profession,
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| And once I laughed at nothing
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| And they called it a depression!
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| I’ve tried dancing up and down
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| The wrong side of the track
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| And I’ve walked on the right side,
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| Or just lain here on my back.
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| I think I’ll quit while I’m behind,
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| Now that I’m twenty-two.
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| My sheets are stained so is my brain,
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| What’s a girl a do?
|
| Oh what’s a girl to do?
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| My sheets are stained so is my brain,
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| What’s a girl a do?
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| Oh what’s a girl to do? |