Slipping through your routine.
Pretending it's a dream.
You sit with them, and suffer men to speak.
How far down do you have to go to be flavor of the week?
You're stoned and beautiful.
You run your mouth.
You're so exed out.
Such a pretty girl.
You're all exed out.
Slick with all the abuse your conscience keeps taking.
And does the losing man ever know when he's lost you?
And do your dirt pretty hands ever stop at all?