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Her cold blank eyes
Reflect like static on
A broken television
Except without the hiss
Her blood red lips are cracked
Like the desert floor
And never gave me a chance
To see her true colors
And now it's too late
Her love is priceless
But her body's cheap
Baby nothing's free
Yeah!
Yeah!
And your open mouth screeches the sound
And your open mouth screeches the sound
It's so silent
Can you hear the dial tone
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
She has the marks of a track star
But she never ran a race
She has the marks of a track star
But she never ran a race
She has the marks of a track star
But she never ran a race
She has the marks of a track star
But she never ran a race
The dim light shines
Just bright enough
To show a little more
Than the silhouette
Of a scantily clad whore
Picture perfect beauty queen face
Picture perfect
Picture perfect face
Through your open mouth
The dial tone of the tension note