She was born to a city of street cars and secrets
In search of something, a boy or a witness
She was an empress with a vulgar bravado
She worshipped plastic prophets

She knew the comedy of a necktie
And the silky lightness
Of expensive fabrics

She traded blood for sugar
She’s trading blood for sugar

She tiptoes as her lovers sleep
An awkward man with a whiskey weakness
And her tears turned to opals and pearls
And she threads them onto a silver cord

And her mattress has secrets

A tuxedo, a promise
A ceremony, a compromise…

She traded blood for sugar
She’s trading blood for sugar…

She was embarrassed by her paint and her sequins
And the vocabulary of motel rooms

And her mattress has secrets

She traded blood for sugar
She’s trading blood for sugar…