This is the story of the fragile, placebo ladies:
Alone on the streets, developing hard games with syringues and cocaine,
the porno type among chains and leather with eating disorders and stupid
anxieties. Cos mom and dad said the placebo ladies had a future.
But actually they didn't. So they have cashmere, so they burst into tears
when their feet hurt, and although everybody could know who mutilate
them, plasma is a powerful atraction. Bzzz-bzzz.
The iron maiden is not a good place to sleep...
And the liver, intoxicated, said no more to sadness with haemorrages.
The fragile ladies take prozac and whisky because they don't have to drive
...because they haven't got feet anymore.
A dancer without feet; a bird without wings.
'She loves me like nobody before, I wanna have a bride, I'll cut her hand
and marry her under the moonlight in a black mass'
And the fragile, placebo ladies, shout up.
'I was so scared, I had lithium, I don't mind... I don't have a mind'
Many names adorn the fragile, placebo ladies list.
'Hey, if you believe all is allright, I'll do' system.
What about complain? I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I lie, I can.
in the future my dreams will be more than sand
I hope...
child of sand we all will go to hell
the life somebody took never will be restored again
and the hug of the plushies in the nest
you dye...
ropes and tides will hold the naked body
the fishes swam on gasoline and then somebody throw a match
he says...
the little miss will be a black widow
the man who wanted to sell the world disappeared
she gasped...
ropes and tides will hold the naked body
the fishes swam on gasoline and then somebody throw a match
it means...
heart-shaped boxes will be full of scissors of slaughter
the man who wanted to sell the world disappeared and set freedom
