A
E
Hollywood
B
Babylon
C♯m
bike-a-thon for breakdancers
A
all broken
E
down in their
B
beds,
F♯m
now intra
E
venously
B
fed from a
F♯m
bag hanging
E
over their
B
heads.
Can I put you
F♯m
down for some miles? What do you
B
say?
Because don’t you
F♯m
know it’s going to be a long, long
B
way.
But if you’ve
F♯m
got the cash, I’m ready to
A
bust my ass.
So
E
take this thin,
B
broken-down
C♯m
circus clown reject and
A
give her the
E
name of a
B
queen.
Don’t I
F♯m
know her from th
E
e mezzani
B
ne? Well, she didn’t
F♯m
look like no pr
E
incess to m
B
e.
But with the
F♯m
proper words
B
bestowed,
and with her
F♯m
morning shoot, and her evening
B
clothes,
don’t call her a
F♯m
prostitute — she ain’t one of
B
those —
Just call her a
F♯m
proper little statue come un
A
froze.
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