Pulp 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.
