| «Don't you feel like time is speeding up?»
|
| Said the rentboy to the priest
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| For this was only supposed to be
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| An in-between thing
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| He wants to see Australia next
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| Where the boys look like rays of light
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| He knows when to stop
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| He’s got his head screwed on right
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| The first time we met you were on the edge of 17
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| Dancing at Secrets with that fake ID
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| You reminded me of me
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| But now here you are
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| In chaps and a leather harness at the Panorama Bar
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| While silver cocaine crystals hang from your nose
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| And you’re speaking with an accent
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| That I know you did not used to have before
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| So I spill your secrets for all my sins
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| You’re making enemies not friends
|
| From someone who’s been there
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| It seems you’ve left a trail
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| And this is your final act
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| Before it fades to black
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| How’s a cute boy in this city supposed to make a living?
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| When life in NYC can be so unforgiving
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| Ain’t nothing wrong with a little side hustle
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| Every smart boy in this town has a sugar daddy waiting in the wings
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| So wet your lips, sell the dream and crawl, crawl to him
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| Take it all way down the back of your throat
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| No, I don’t fuck with crystal and neither should you
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| You’ve got too much to lose
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| And you don’t need any more bad news
|
| As the feds go knocking round from door to door
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| The secret service leads you to a car
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| This is what you do for Balmain
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| This is what you do for St Laurent
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| So I spill the tea girl for all that it’s worth
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| You’re making enemies not friends
|
| From someone who’s been there
|
| Who could have wrote the book
|
| Seems this is your final act
|
| Before it fades to black
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| He’s down 4 PNP
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| Fades to black
|
| He’s down 4 PNP
|
| Fades to black |