| An orchard with goats. |
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Her face is pale and painted, like a bridge that needs repair. Crimson stripes, vermilion dots, silver starlets in her hair. Her eyes are cold and hollow, she is a looking for some love. Or a John who brings a hundred bucks, that's what she is dreaming off. A house in the country with some goats in the fields An orchard with almonds where everything's real, real, real, so unreal, Real, real, real, so unreal, real, real, real, so unreal, A police car is coming, they're taking her of the street To the seventeenth precinct, there's a lawyer to meet. And her family's shouting that she is a disgrace. That the hell is too good still and the street that's her place. Her mind is like a meadow, flowers growing everywhere And wildlife oh so natural, but there is this dark disappear. Her mouth is often laughing, but her eyes are never glad. And all she hears from the folks around is: "Money that's where it's at." A house in the country with some goats in the fields An orchard with almonds where everything's real, real, real, so unreal, Real, real, real, so unreal, real, real, real, so unreal, An ambulance is coming, they're taking her of the street To the morgue in the East End, where they're freezing her deep. It's too late for her family no matter how hard they cry. Put the blame on the others and believe their own lie. Just a home in the country and an orchard with goats. (repeat) |
| Cosmic Co�tus 13 |
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