Pollution

She's got cigarette on each arm

She's got the lilly-white cavity crazes

She's go a carborator tied to the moon

Pink eyes looking to the food of the ages

She's alone in the new pollution

she's got a hand on a wheel of pain

She can talk to the mangling strangers

She can sleep in a fiery bog

Throwing troubles to the dying embers

She's got a paradise caoflauge

Like a whip-crack sending me shivers

She's a boat through a strip-mine ocean

Riding low on the drunken rivers

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