You say you are turned on but since when were you unplugged,
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I tell you no one's watching; you dismiss me with a shrug,
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But I go back and check my toothbrush for hairs every morning.
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You want something to parade at social functions,
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Something pretty and of worth in your future echelons,
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But I've never sat in a store front window and I don't know if I could fake it now.
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You say I am out of hand, which is true,
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One thing out of your hand,
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Is me, your heroine.
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My skin reflects the lot of implanted finery,
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And I puke up protein and shave my ass reflexively,
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Magazines and gossip columns strew the coffee table like bonds.
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The act of sensing defines the paradigm of the other,
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By fitting in as such, such distinctions suffer,
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Taking care not to raise my voice or blush, given issue.
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You say I am out of hand, which is true.
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One thing out of your hand
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Is me, your heroine.
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If you said you were turned on but since when were you unplugged,
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I tell you no one's watching, you dismiss me with a shrug,
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But I go back and check my toothbrush for hairs every morning.
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You say I am out of hand, which is true,
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The one thing out of your hand,
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Is me, your heroine.
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You say I am out of hand, which is true,
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The one thing out of your hand,
|
Is me, your heroine.
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On my chest as if I'm crawling down the runway,
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I frost my lips and turn blue beneath the midway,
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I can pierce a room with my gaze and my arched back posture.
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You say I am out of hand, which is true,
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The one thing out of your hand,
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Is me, your heroine.
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-----------------
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Heroine With An E
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Harvey Danger |