Title Track

All of the stage names evaporate
And it's just a blood flushed and heart-rushing rates
Either to kick off too soon or stick around too late, to be far too dear or too cut-rate
Hold my hand again
Like at the lake

Hold that mirror, babe
Up to my face
Hear the whippoorwill
Am I breathing still?

A Hollywood Babylon bike-athon for breakdancers all broken down in their beds
Now intravenously fed
From a bag hanging over their heads
Can I put you down for some miles?
What do you say?
Cause don't you know, it's going to be a long, long way
But if you've got the cash
I'm ready to bust my ass

So, take this thin broken down circus clown reject and give her the name of a queen
Don't I know her from the mezzanine?
She didn't look like no princess to me
But with the proper words
Bestowed
And with her morning shoot
Her evening clothes
Don't call her a prostitute
Well, she ain't one of those
Just call her a proper little statue
Come unfroze