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All of the stage names evaporate And it's just a blood flushed and heart-rushing rates Either to kick off too soon or stick around too late, to be far too dear or too cut-rate Hold my hand again Like at the lake Hold that mirror, babe Up to my face Hear the whippoorwill Am I breathing still? A Hollywood Babylon bike-athon for breakdancers all broken down in their beds Now intravenously fed From a bag hanging over their heads Can I put you down for some miles? What do you say? Cause don't you know, it's going to be a long, long way But if you've got the cash I'm ready to bust my ass So, take this thin broken down circus clown reject and give her the name of a queen Don't I know her from the mezzanine? She didn't look like no princess to me But with the proper words Bestowed And with her morning shoot Letras de cancionesHer evening clothes Don't call her a prostitute Well, she ain't one of those Just call her a proper little statue Come unfroze From Letras Mania