|
DeVille |
|
Little Miss Tragedy is so misunderstood |
|
She can hear you sniff a whip of a bad drugs a hundred yards away |
|
And if she gets, you cornered she won't be satisfied, no she won't |
|
And everything around her just seems to fly apart |
|
But it has nobody to blame, nobody but yourself of being pulled in again |
|
Into a slow drain, a slow drain. |
|
Mr. West Coast dealer he wants a front for you, yes I do, yes I do |
|
And being so experienced and all, he knows just what to do |
|
He says : 'You must be tired of the street, my friend, here's a place for you to rest' |
|
And the price is never mentioned utill he gets your best |
|
Always stop listening, nobody to blame |
|
Nobody but yourself of being pulled in again |
|
Into a slow drain, a slow drain. |
|
So you're new in town, you wanna meet some fans |
|
They're all fresh hookers warming or pressing you in a doing thing |
|
And if they get you cornered, they'd be coming 'round again and that's for shure |
|
And everything they touch just seems to waste away |
|
Always stop listening, nobody to blame |
|
Nobody but yourself of being pushed in again |
|
Into a slow drain, a slow drain |
|
Slow drain, slow drain |
|
Slow drain, slow drain |
|
Hang you 'till you dry. |