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The Girl with the Neck Tattoo
When I fell for the girl with the neck tattoo breaking hearts along Shady Lane.
I was looking for trouble when she came through saying trouble is my middle name.
And she smells like a chain-smoke hair salon, she’s a trailer-park fashion show.
A little hot-mess princess let’s wake up late, and then I’ll make ‘ya breakfast.
She’s the girl with the neck tattoo.
It always starts with once upon a party like a rock star. Ways to making out in filthy bathrooms at a dive bar.
The moment when I saw her walking through the front door I ordered her a drink she joined me for a few more.
And then she kissed me, she said her name was Candy cause her seven sugar daddy’s gave her one too many cavities.
The perfect hurricane of comedy and tragedy; an ugly duckling who got lucky growing up to be a top shelf, smoke show, slim fit, fish net, freak who likes rough sex living on a death wish. Shoplifting from the Vintage Thrift, drinking coffee, huffing whippets, rolling molly, dice and cigarettes.
So I said, fuck it. “Hey Candy, would you marry me”? She said, “I’m into flattery, but not so much monogamy”. Be like a parakeet, repeat after me “I’ll meet you in between the sheets ‘cause pretty Polly wants a memory. I must admit that I’m impressed at how she manages to navigate consent, romance and twenty-six relationships. BDSM she like her friends to come with benefits, so if you tie her down be sure there ain’t no strings attached.
When I fell for the girl with the neck tattoo breaking hearts along Shady Lane.
I was looking for trouble when she came through saying trouble is my middle name.
And she smelled like a chain-smoke hair salon, she’s a trailer-park fashion show.
A little hot-mess princess let’s wake up late, and then I’ll make ‘ya breakfast.
She’s the girl with the neck tattoo.
She’s a wild child, going out in style hotter than the burning garbage overflowing in a dumpster fire
Beware if you acquire everything your heart desires. But if you stay a while, I promise I can make you smile.
The final product, a Frankenstein Madonna made from pills, pot, hip-hop, power pop and punk rock.
She’s pretty crazy; witty, savage like a mic drop, smoking marijuana in pajamas at the bus stop.
Fuck cops, got clout, hanging with the out crowd, drunker than a bender with the ghost of Amy Winehouse.
She keeps a closet full of skeletons and cabinets of medicines…so innocent until she turns the lights out.
She’s complicated but I’ll try to explain by writing case in front of waste and placing basket in between.
And then she winked and told me “Don’t want a man to hold me. But you can choke me in the alley after karaoke.”
'Cause she’s an artist with her manic panic, painting portraits, she fills her canvas up with acid, weed and mental illness.
You think I’m joking but I hope that you know I’ll see ya later, sleeping over so we both can do the stick ‘n poke.
When I fell for the girl with the neck tattoo breaking hearts along Shady Lane.
I was looking for trouble when she came through saying trouble is my middle name.
And she smelled like a chain-smoke hair salon, she’s a trailer-park fashion show.
A little hot-mess princess let’s wake up late, and then I’ll make ‘ya breakfast.
She’s the girl with the neck tattoo.
Black sheep, misfit, out of step, Kesha, Green Day, Minor Threat. She like a five-finger discount deal.
All the earrings and her piercings were of stainless steel.
Whiskey, ashtrays, herbal tea, tacos, incense, anarchy. She’s like a head trip against the grain.
She’s a riddle and a puzzle and a guessing game.
Yet, when I dream of you and me it’s Kurt and Courtney meant to be, or Sid and Nancy, clean without a murder mystery.
Two personalities that break the mold, her body like a centerfold, my head explodes electric like a lightning bolt.
She’ll laugh and say “whatever”, I’ll say “It’s now or never for you and me to run away and build a life together”.
Be my umbrella and my shelter in the stormy weather no nothing matters..buy my record, sing it altogether…
When I fell for the girl with the neck tattoo breaking hearts along Shady Lane.
I was looking for trouble when she came through saying trouble is my middle name.
And she smelled like a chain-smoke hair salon, she’s a trailer-park fashion show.
A little hot-mess princess let’s wake up late, and then I’ll make ‘ya breakfast.
She’s the girl with the neck tattoo.