And untwisting lipstick
Over trash reminds me
Of colorful phony paper.
You look so good that its depressing
Heaven knows Ive been there before
And there's no sense in self obsessing
Youll get what you came here for
Ill bet you’ve got a million
Those legs, from the floor to the ceiling
Those songs are all there singing lately
That sound don’t really mean shit to me.
In the sky
Both red hot
Like stoned eyes
To a fixed position
Carry on, can sex be self preservation?