International-Reject-Associate

That four-leaf clover your wear close to your heart
Is paved with the dust of a temporary thrill
There’s no lucky charm against oblivion
On a run, from yourself, from your mortality

When the green fields drain to white
Even your spilt blood is colourless
The phone rings with a lethal shriek
Your dealer is waiting for his due

She is international
A traitor to herself
She is international
She’s northern comatose

That sense of self is fooling no one
Your dignity is in a pile of China White
You search for praise, where there is none
There are problems that junkies never understand

She is international
A traitor to us all
She is international
She’s northern comatose

Don’t pretend, you’ll just embarrass yourself

The End

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