my old man is a bad man
but I can't deny the way he holds my hands
and he grabs me, he has me by my heart
he doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past
he doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me
he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart
the prettiest in crowd that you had ever seen
ribbons in our hair and our eyes gleamed mean
a freshmen generation of degenerate beauty queens
ribbons in our hair and our eyes gleamed mean
a freshmen generation of degenerate beauty queens
wind in my hair
hand on the back of my neck
I said, 'can we party later on?'
he said, 'yes, yes'
hand on the back of my neck
I said, 'can we party later on?'
he said, 'yes, yes'
there she was my new best friend
high heels in her hands, swayin' in the wind
while she starts to cry, mascara runnin' down her little Bambi eyes:
'Lana, how I hate those guys.'
it's a love story for the new age
for the sixth page
want a quick sick rampage?
wining and dining, drinking and driving
excessive buying, overdosing, dying
on our drugs and our love
and our dreams and our rage
blurring the lines between real and the fake
Lana del Reys fejkade dekadens är så lockande, hennes självuppoffrande kärlek så oemotståndlig. Mot min vilja faller jag handlöst.
För övrigt vill jag även dela med mig av den här artikeln på SvD: "Otrygga anställningar kan förkorta livet".
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