The cold truth coats the formal chattered greeting
Darling I'm broke, could you get your own rum and coke?
Your catholic bones contrast your nymphet teething
With just one toke, I'm sure we'd chill this evening
These plastic pubs, they make my head hurt
Let's buy some cans and roll around into the dirt
But you know my head won't let go
I am more in debt to lust than you could hope
Your fragrance floats above these gentrified slopes
But you seem coaxed by the Kardashian promos
My blackened heart can't stand your taste, girl
Still I'm obsessed with your stick thin legs that I want now
But you know my head won't let go
I am more in debt to lust than you could hope