Between the dead ring ash of extreme defense. The lonely groups of company boys. Snapping pictures of scrawny limbs and toothy grins. These are children riding naked on their tourist pals. While the hollows that pass for eyes swell from withdrawal. And he lies on a mattress in a rat infested room. Talking 'bout his family and the cold back home. CHORUS. Between the dull cold eyes and the mind unstable. Noone over here reads the papers pal. 'Tween the dull cold eyes and the mind unstable. He's a clean trick and he's shopping for girls. A small black someone jumps over the crazy white guard. Cranking up the volume of a Michael Jackson song. CHORUS. Where the frangipani scents the air. She mouths a word that breaks his stare. He grunts his reply in a garrulous croak. "That's a mighty big word for a nine year old". CHORUS. Shopping for girls shopping for girls. You gaze down into her eyes for a million miles. You wanna give her a name and a clean rag doll