| My lips are cold. |
| My heart is flame
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| My hips are old. |
| My kiss is pain
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| My father took me one too many times
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| No mother I’ll be to any of his kind
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| For kindness is the flesh on flesh
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| They call me «Crazy»
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| 'Cause there’s no one else to blame
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| Crazy, full of fantasies and shame
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| So I’m crazy as a bedbug in June?
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| What’s a girl to do?
|
| What’s a girl to do?
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| My eyes invite the calloused mind
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| My thighs excite like newly-ripened wine
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| I take their lust and I swallow fast
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| They rape the dust of my body’s past
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| For passion is the time after time
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| They call me «Hey, baby!»
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| And spill their naked seed
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| «Hey baby, don’t you save a little bit for me?»
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| So I’m savior and mother to the breed?
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| What’s a girl to be
|
| What’s a girl to be
|
| Those little girls with their tongues on fire
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| That child’s world full of innocent desire
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| I never touch them but to photograph the dream
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| Those lonely children never feel alone with me
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| For loneliness is mother to my need
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| They call me «Uncle wonderful»
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| Uncle wonderful…
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| The wonder’s in the splendor of their youth
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| What’s a girl to do?
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| What’s a girl to do?
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| I lock you in just to shut you out
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| No love begins, there’s no love to doubt
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| I offer life without pain or need
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| I murdered mine, and I threw away the key
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| Now I’ve forgotten how to breath
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| They call me «Normal»
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| Normal…
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| I am the institution of private destiny
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| I offer a solution — anesthesia’s ecstasy
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| They call me free |