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
It's six o'clock, the sun goes down
The hotel shudders
Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in
I left home at the age of thirteen
With a
I've been hanging out in the boredom basement
Building up
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