She’s going to cut you down. She’s going to to turn you out
She’s going to make you wish you never seen her face before
She’s going to break you down. She’s going to put you out
She’s going to make an example out of you and your sorry skin
You’re dead already
Dead as a doornail. I am singing to the dead
You’re trying to bring the right one home. But you’ll end up with a hole in your head
She breathes fire, She sweats tar
Although she’s a looker, that’s just the surface and that’s all she wants you
to know
She’ll have you running up and down the street asking advice from friends,
neighbors and family
Water filled veins and stone cold heart she’s the medusa of your deep blue need
So don’t start crying, saying you don’t know what you know
She’ll cut your throat before you could even wish wish wish yourself home
Her business card reads:
«Put my name atop the list of those who can love you all away. Sweet G.B.»