She can make you feel like filth

She can make you feel like a star

She will scratch till her hand is bloody

But she'll love you more for the scar

She remembers the recent past

She's something the cat dragged in

She's a trollop in paisley, so,

(C): Take her down to the woods where the wolfboy lives,

So the villagers say,

And the three of you evaporate into the night

Till you both fall in love with him

With a face like an African mask

And the strength of ten men

When she's wrong

She's in charge in the world at large

And her novels are all very long

She belongs on the astral plane

She's probably a hologram

Put her back in the padded cell (C)

So you'll dress head to foot in lame

And you'll dance in December snow

When the sky turns to wine you'll embrace

And forget everything that you know

She can tell you the will of the gods

Butter won't melt in her mouth, but you will

Don't bother to ask her name (C)