Mary Jane
I once knew a girl, that Mary Jane,
ragdoll queen sleeping on a bed of cocaine.
They told her she was insane, that Mary Jane,
wrapping herself in a dress of bondage chains.
She liked being in the bathroom stalls,
just an underwear on and cum on the walls.

That lovely, soft Mary Jane.
Breathe right, oh Mary Jane, breathe smoky air into the morning rain.

She grew up right, she grew up well,
just fell in love with the wrong man, fell into the wrong kind of hell.
She liked to etch poetry into her skin;
only at night just when shadows started creeping in.
She liked chewing rubber and she liked snapping gum.
It was a wonder why she pulled the trigger twenty-three times one.

That lovely, soft Mary Jane.
Sing well, oh Mary Jane, sing to the birds and the men with wooden canes.

That girl, Mary Jane, she could dance the best,
dance with bullets flying through her breasts.
She danced through fifty drops of metal rain,
danced till she dropped and couldn't get up again.
Sweat showered the floor, and blood sparkled the walls;
the confetti had flown all around the bathroom stalls.
A red pool started to flow out of her head;
a lovely halo for Mary Jane, that lovely, soft queen of the cocaine bed.