her cold blue eyes reflect like static on a broken televison, except without the hiss
her blood red lips are cracked like the desert floor
and she never gave me a chance to see her true colorsand now its too late
her love is priceless but her body's cheap baby nothings free
yea yea
and through her open mouth screeches the sound of a dialtone that no one can hear so the phone stays off the hook and her glazed stare begins to slowly flicker out like another broken down street light in a run down neighborhood
the dim light shines just bright enough to show a little more than the silouhette of a scantilly clad whore pounds of make up and smeared mascera taint a once picture perfect beauty queen face she has the marks of a track star, but she never ran a race