In the dark,
She is rocking
Not to records,
But to voices in her head
Lilybelle, Lilybelle, Lilybelle
Hot as hell
3 a.m
And it feels just like high noon
In her head
Come to bed
When the air cools down
I'm gonna skate away
Gonna fly so far,
I'm gonna kiss that star
Get off of that trip
Don't touch it baby
Get off of that trip
You'll burn your pretty fingers
Get off of that trip
You'll soil your cherry hands
Get off of that trip
Seven thousand holes to blow through
Oh, scissors and paper
And other sharp things
You can chew on that
For a while
You're a trained dog, girl,
You got house, heart of gold
Won't you try to forget,
Won't you let me,
Won't you let me go to sleep
Close your eyes, pull the plug
Turn it down, kill the lights
Shut it up, shut it up
Let your head go under, let your head go under
Let your head go to nothing, girl
Get off of that trip
Don't touch it baby
Get off of that trip
You'll burn your pretty fingers
Get off of that trip
You'll soil your cherry hands
Get off of that trip
Seven thousand holes to blow through
There are songbirds
And sweet things
Where angels bare wings
And bask in the afterglow
Of good deeds done by tender souls
But I, in my wretched state,
Fat from years of sucking hate,
Can never scrape the dirt off,
Can never shake the other side
It hides in holes behind my eyes
