beck - new pollution

She's got a cigarette on each arm
She's got the lily-white cavity crazes
She's got a carborator tied to the moon
Pink gods looking to the fruit of the ages

She's alone in the new pollution

She's got a hand on a wheel of pain
She can talk to the mangling strangers
She can sleep in a fiery barn
Throwing troubles to the dying embers

She's alone in the new pollution

She's got a paradise camoflauge
Like a whip-crack sending me shivers
She's a boat through a strip-mine ocean
Riding low on the drunken rivers


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