All of the stage names evaporate And it's just a blood-flushed and heart-rushing race 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-a-thon 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 a** 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? Well, she didn't look like no princess to me But with the proper words bestowed And with her morning shoot And 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