Saint Etienne Hate Your Drug
Like four paper-dolls, all heavy with sleep
They hold you like a baby, your body so weak
They lay you on a white bed, almost dead at nineteen
Like four paper dolls, all heavy with sleep
And with your blond hair, all over my dress
Your heart had stopped beating, your head on my chest
And I told you for the last time that I loved you best
And with your blond hair, all over my dress