Beck

The new pollution



She's got cigarette on each arm She's got the lily-white cavity crazes She's got a carborator tied to the moon Pink eyes looking to the food 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 bog 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