Текст песни Pulp - Anorexic Beauty

Sitting alone on a cold bar stool,
Your cold, hard eyes make me feel a fool.
Pastel-white features,
High cheek-bones,
Scarlet-blooded lips and deathly tones.

The girl of my nighares,
Sultry and corpse-like.
The girl
Of my
Nighares.

Brittle fingers,
And thin cigarettes,
So hard to tell apart,
She hasn't spoken yet.
You put your hand on mine,
Death white on brown,
Those whirlpool eyes
Well, I begin to drown.

The girl of my nighares,
Erotic and skull-faced.
The girl
Of my
Nighares.

Anorexic beauty,
Feather-weight perfection,
Anorexic beauty,
Underweight
Goddess.

Sitting alone on
A cold bar stool, your
So hard to tell apart,
She hasn't spoken yet.
Pastel-white features,
High cheek-bones,
Scarlet-blooded lips and deathly tones.

The girl of my nighares,
Sultry and corpse-like.
The girl
Of my
Nighares.

Anorexic beauty,
Feather-weight perfection,
Anorexic beauty,
Underweight
Goddess.

Pulp - Anorexic Beauty