| Frances Baker was a red-eyed woman
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| She was wanted in fifteen states
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| Dress was torn around at the shoulder
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| Resulting from her escape
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| She wanted love, She wanted fame
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| She got it all, even her name
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| In a concrete star on the corner of the street
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| Where real life and the movies meet
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| Where real life and the movies meet
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| Oh let me be in the city of angels
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| Yes, this is what I want
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| To put on my dress
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| And some red, red lipstick
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| And let all the people watch me as I walk
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| Up in Vegas where the neon screams
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| As loud as the traffic in her (?) scenes
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| She ran away to the circus (circus)
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| She wears high heels like in her dreams
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| Down the catwalk with her long cigarette
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| Hanging from her pretty pouted lips
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| She’s gonna be famous
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| She’s gonna be rich
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| Rockabye baby, rockabye bitch
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| Rockabye baby, rockabye
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| Oh let me be in the city of angels
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| Yes, this is what I want
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| To put on my dress
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| And some red, red lipstick
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| And let all the people watch me as I walk
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| In the lamp light of her motel room
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| She writes home to the moon
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| Say goodnight to my old bedroom
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| I’ll be home to visit someday soon
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| I’ll be home to visit someday
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| Now she knows she’s got it all
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| She does her cocaine in the hall
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| No more hiding in the bathroom stall
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| She is the fairest of them all
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| She is the fairest of them all |