see that girl with the vacant eyes?

see that girl with the wasted frame?

see that girl with the sickly smile?

see that girl who’s died for fame?

maybe you should take her,

or maybe leave her lying;

maybe you could break her,

but she’s already crying.

there’s nothing left but pyrite

on the streets so ‘paved with gold’ –

she can’t straighten up and fly right,

so she’ll just do what she’s told.