She's got a cigarette on each arm. She's got the lily-white cavity crazes. She's got a carborator tied to the moon. Pink gods looking to the fruit of the ages. She's alone in the new pollution. She's alone in the new pollution. She's got a hand on a wheel of pain. She can talk to the mangling strangers. She can sleep in a fiery barn. Throwing troubles to the dying embers. She's alone in the new pollution. She's alone in the new pollution. She's alone in the new pollution. She's alone in the new pollution. She's got a paradise camoflauge. Like a whip-crack sending me shivers. She's a boat through a strip-mine ocean. Riding low on the drunken rivers. She's alone in the new pollution. She's alone in the new pollution.