Lolita, shes got the songs of silencenshes got it allnpainted so humbly over the bathroom wallnthe porcelin drips as she breaks up so quicknand now let the prick pastor of the ambassador's lips(?)nnLolita, I love hernShes perfect all overnbuilt like a briged made of four-leaf cloversnthe weeks to a monster that keeps him forever nto have pockets and lockets that will float as we drownnnAnd i know that its almost overnkeep starting overnnAnd I know this beautiful bednand its just for money as a sound moves a bodynand i hope they treat you wellnyeanare there words that can save us now?nnLolita im firednfeeling so old and tirednbut her eyes are unfrozzen nfilled with admirensounds like liqour as the planet get thickerngets so much heavier and closer than we standnnI know the music is overnbut it keeps starting overnthats how it goesnnAnd I know this beautiful bednand its just for money as a sound moves a bodynand i hope they treat you wellnyeanThere are no words that can save us now!nnSo come on, come rest nmy new engine of lovenwatching all over, watching moving groundnnLolita they found her nwith love all around herntied to rerival of lifes cheapest island (?)