Radios, TV shows
Fill my holes with your goodies
I sold my
A cheap and evil girl sets out on the city
She's
It's Sunday night, I am curled up in my room
The
Lucy is gazing, out into space
She has starry eyes, starry
The leather boots I was born in
Are tattered, torn out
My head is heavy and bent like a crane
The
In this concrete jungle void of charms
With the take-out,
I stutter like a broken clutch
When you touch me too
Solitary girl I have been
Living in a cell made of
You put your face in front of mine
All but hiding
The moon is pulling at me,
The moon is pulling
