I’ve noticed a distinct lack of women around here – there’s like, none.
From what the natives tell me, even if you made it to Texas, there were perils. Either that’s true or they are seriously trying to cover something up.
P.S., Pain
Sacred Angel, cigarette stained,
You look so pretty in the dirty city
Making friends with Pain
But Pain is always a stranger
He’s coming round every corner
Headlights getting warmer
Sticking out like a foreigner
Pain is always a stranger
Torn up barby doll baby, wrapped in grace
You’re loving life from the other side
Flying high with Pain
Take off your ring
Strap on your wings
He will shout from above
Somebody owes him love
He will laugh at you
Until he’s blue
That is what he’ll do
Because Pain is always a stranger.