| You’re standing out in the corridor
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| Of the worst hotel that you’ve ever dreamed
|
| A frayed linoleum paradise
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| Where you walk on cash and you calloused heels and
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| Oh, to count the cost of no returning
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| No, when innocence is lost
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| You just keep turning wild
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| My wild orphan child
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| My orphan child
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| My orphan wild in the wilderness
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| And you look a little like Jodie Foster
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| 12 years old but your eyes are 35
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| And that’s no joking matter
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| You’ve got no body hair and nobody cares
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| But no, you know it all
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| I can’t deny it
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| Cute, with razor blade in pocket
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| Well, I don’t buy it
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| And so when I see you smile
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| It only makes me want to cry
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| My wild orphan child
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| My orphan wild in the world
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| I saw you, babe, at the Mirabelle
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| Feeding oysters from the half shell
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| Oh, but you’re such a busy girl
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| You say
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| I know where the real money is found
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| Inside of a hopelessness and yearning
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| Yes, and cold is what to be
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| To touch the burning flame I see |