Title Track کے بول

All of the stage names evaporate And it's just a blood flushed and heart-rushing rates Either to kick off too soon or stick around too late, to be far too dear or too cut-rate Hold my hand again Like at the lake Hold that mirror, babe Up to my face Hear the whippoorwill Am I breathing still? A Hollywood Babylon bike-athon for breakdancers all broken down in their beds Now intravenously fed From a bag hanging over their heads Can I put you down for some miles? What do you say? Cause don't you know, it's going to be a long, long way But if you've got the cash I'm ready to bust my ass So, take this thin broken down circus clown reject and give her the name of a queen Don't I know her from the mezzanine? She didn't look like no princess to me But with the proper words Bestowed And with her morning shoot Her evening clothes Don't call her a prostitute Well, she ain't one of those Just call her a proper little statue Come unfroze