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 blonde 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 blonde hair / all over my dress.
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This page was last generated on Sat Jun 29 2002 by Anthony Bailey's