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| Pulp Freaks Anorexic Beauty Sitting alone on / a cold bar stool, / your cold, hard eyes make me feel a fool. / Pastel-white features, / high cheek-bones, scarlet-blooded lips and deathly tones. The girl of my nightmares, / sultry and corpse-like. The girl / of my / nightmares. Brittle fingers, / and thin cigarettes, / so hard to tell apart, (she hasn't spoken yet.) You put your hand on mine, / death white on brown, those whirlpool eyes; / well, I begin to drown. The girl of my nightmares, / erotic and skull-faced. The girl / of my / nightmares. Anorexic beauty, / feather-weight perfection, / anorexic beauty, underweight / goddess. Sitting alone on / a cold bar stool, your / so hard to tell apart, (she hasn't spoken yet.) Pastel-white features, / high cheek-bones, scarlet-blooded lips and deathly tones. The girl of my nightmares, / sultry and corpse-like. The girl / of my / nightmares. Anorexic beauty, / feather-weight perfection, / anorexic beauty, underweight / goddess. |
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