fled the sun in favour of treading moonlights path shes become a carpet bagger of the nights flourishing kingdoms of alleyways and the treasured dumpsters like sodden jewels they contain
she reeks from the cast off of the popular masses but it is sweet perfumes to the forsaken hollow eyed wanderers lost in the maze of concrete and steel she lips a sacred song in her temple of night and keeps a wary eye painted to the ever shut door the unexpected is the road dogs creed and she allways got a little something extra stashed away for the hungry and quiet
ribbons decorate her torn dress they are fine silk stained with coffee and beans thats our girl the highest quality in the lowest company shes a rough house princess with a heart of gold she wanders me down to the tear-drop inn rents me a bed to lay up with some pretty dreams
pulls out of her designer jeans a folded and creased copy of nineteen fifty three complete with greaser kids and hot rods left me there dreamin i was the tough guy leather jacket and Indian motorcycle and she was my betty boop candy sweet smile girl in the quiet halls of the tear-drop inn with a sadsack companion picking dreamers pockets for the smiles to be found thats our girl thats our sweet sweet girl covered in the romance of the hard road trackmarks and ***** dustbins the likes of her we may never see again