"I don't want realism I want magic"

                     lapping up liquor like a cat

and the man who loves me won't talk to me back
and the man who doesn't is the one I love

and he tells me of the girls he's dreaming of

the caked on makeup melts of my facade
as I spend all my money I saved for abroad

you're not clean enough for me
you're not mean enough to me

cold and heavy with illness and spite
there is no rest for the wicked this night