Lyrics

Slipping out of drugs on a dirt road going home
Drifting into New York, like boys in drag
Like a little real woman with a fork in her mouth
Cigarettes to her face, as she screams out loud
The scout master is dying
But he?ll make sure
You?re dead first

Andrew gave the male plated bride away
While Jackie and Stuart left the Factory
The circle was broken at Whips, Twenty Five
She died with a coke and rosary in sight
As she was screaming from the window,
?He must not, he must not go free!?


Chorus: And all the Boys in the back, say
Give me, Dylan
Give me, Warhol
Let me feel it
I want some kind of abstract sensation

All the guys really like her, cause she?s easy to make
But when the wedding is mentioned, they all say, ?Keep that black rice in place!?
Like a busy business woman, she?s all over the place
And every open Monday, she gets V-disease checked
She?s, so scared of living that she makes sure
That?s she?s dead first

Chorus

Lead

Learning off Dylan from an old LP
He was singing like an Okee born in Tennessee
Talking about life and games it?s gain, while stashing his pain
Behind an open refrain
Painting like painter
A picture without a name

Chorus