You're cussing a storm in a cocktail dress your mother wore when she was young
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Red sun saint around your neck
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A wet martini in a paper cup
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You're a wasp nest, you're a wasp nest.
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Your eyes are broken bottles
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And I'm afraid to ask
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And all your wrath and cutting beauty
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You're poison in the pretty glass
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You're a wasp nest, you're a wasp nest
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You're all humming live wires under your killing clothes.
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Get over here, I wanna kiss your skinny throat
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You're a wasp nest, you're a wasp nest
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Wasp Nest
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The National |