(She became the servant of the moon)
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She represents with binocular eyes all of the London crowd
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The affectionate zombies weep and cry whenever she leaves town
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Abused and fucked up
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Under the knife
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Wearing a mini skirt
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Painting her lips in the museum of her stripes
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Where she worships how she hurts
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No one was waiting for her love
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She was the savior of the sun
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And through the thinnest needle slipped into her cocoon
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Where she became the servant of the moon
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She was half starved up in her head
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With an inward gaze she could paint your portrait as you bled
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And expect your praise
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Like a desert spider she will burn
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Burn in the sky
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She is more beautiful then anything when she cries
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No one was waiting for her love
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She was the savior of the sun
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And through the thinnest needle slipped into her cocoon
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Where she became the servant of the moon
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Savior Of The Sun
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Joseph Arthur |