| And they say she’s in the Class A-team
|
| Stuck in her day-dream
|
| Been this way since eighteen, but lately
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| Her face seems to slowly sink, wasting
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| Crumbling like pastries
|
| And they scream, «worse things in life come free to us»
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| Cause we’re just under the upperhand
|
| And go mad for a couple grams
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| She don’t wanna go outside tonight
|
| And in the pipe, she flies to the motherland
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| And sells love to another man
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| It’s too cold outside, for angels to fly
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| Dark room, starin' down a bottle
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| Blank face with the figure of a model
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| These cold nights, too often to be coincidence
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| Used to be an artist now the pipe’s the only instrument
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| A-Student, her friends loved her to death
|
| Her assessment of her men just wasn’t the best
|
| They met freshman year, fell in love on a whim
|
| Left after first semester, all she wanted was him
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| Didn’t love gettin' high, but did it because he wanted to
|
| Little scared, but how much damage could marijuana do?
|
| Weed turned to pills, pills turned to pain
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| Personality changed, nothin' was the same
|
| Now he didn’t wanna kiss her, didn’t wanna love her
|
| Everything was fuckin' different, he left to find another
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| So hurt, and embarrassed
|
| All she got was dial tones every time she called her parents
|
| Move along, move along: what she told herself
|
| Had to find the means so she sold herself
|
| Used her body for a buck, but hardly was a slut
|
| She would cry herself to sleep after every single fuck
|
| Lost track of her reality
|
| Thoughts of her addiction made her think this how it had to be
|
| Now she stands, lifted on that balcony
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| Lost soul and ready to be a casualty
|
| Found a star, to make one last wish
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| Brought the pipe up to her mouth, for one last hit
|
| It was the ultimate high, took a breath and closed her eyes
|
| And jumped off the ledge, she was ready to fly |