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Anorexic beauty

by Pulp

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Sitting alone on a cold bar stool,
your cold, hard eyes make me feel a fool.
Pastel-white features,
high cheek-bones,
scarlet-blooded lips and deathly tones.

The girl of my nightmares,
sultry and corpse-like.
The girl
of my
nightmares.

Brittle fingers,
and thin cigarettes,
so hard to tell apart,
she hasn´t spoken yet.
You put your hand on mine,
death white on brown,
those whirlpool eyes;
well, I begin to drown.

The girl of my nightmares,
erotic and skull-faced.
The girl
of my
nightmares.

Anorexic beauty,
feather-weight perfection,
anorexic beauty,
underweight
goddess.

Sitting alone on
a cold bar stool, your
so hard to tell apart,
she hasn´t spoken yet.
Pastel-white features,
high cheek-bones,
scarlet-blooded lips and deathly tones.

The girl of my nightmares,
sultry and corpse-like.
The girl
of my
nightmares.

Anorexic beauty,
feather-weight perfection,
anorexic beauty,
underweight
goddess.
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