| Dust settles on a thin cloud
|
| Sends a fog drifting to a worn out crowd
|
| I’ve had my face in a mirror for twenty four hours
|
| Staring at a line of white powder
|
| High-priced madness pays the tab
|
| I’ve scraped too much of nothing from your plastic bag
|
| I’m a catatonic son of a bitch who’s had
|
| A touch too much of white powder
|
| And she’s a habit I can’t handle
|
| For a reason I can’t say
|
| I’m in love with a wild white lady
|
| She’s as sweet as the stories say
|
| White powder, white lady
|
| You’re one and the same
|
| Come on down to my house won’t you
|
| And hit this boy again
|
| White powder
|
| (White powder)
|
| White lady
|
| (White lady)
|
| You’re one and the same
|
| Come on down to my house, won’t you?
|
| And hit this boy again
|
| Shock waves to a tired brain
|
| Sends that hungry lady to my door again
|
| She’s my shelter from the storm when I feel the rain
|
| Entertaining white powder
|
| I feel I’m dry-docked and tongue-tied
|
| Heaven sends a stretcher for the kids to ride
|
| I might just escape while the others might die
|
| Riding on a high of white powder
|
| I feel I’m dry-docked and tongue-tied
|
| Heaven sends a stretcher for the kids to ride
|
| I might just escape while the others might die
|
| Riding on a high of white powder
|
| White powder
|
| White lady
|
| (White lady)
|
| Hit this boy again |