[attr="class","girlgonetop"]

GIRL GONE BAD

[attr="class","girlgonebot1"]



Lazy eyes in the summer heat, fresh from outta town. Now she's working on the street shakin' poor boys down. Girl gone bad, girl gone bad. Found that girl with a lonesome John, but she should've been with me. Guess that woman fallen in love – she don't work for free. Girl gone bad, girl gone bad. girl gone bad, girl gone bad.[break][break]

Rising high in the morning and busying herself throughout the remainder of the day may leave her fatigued when the horizon swallows the sun, the Seattle city skyline bleeding red before finally falling to inky darkness, but years of unintentional conditioning have made it virtually impossible to fall to slumber when all others do. She hides the bags under her eyes under layers and layers of makeup, drowns herself in a sea of caffeine that allows her to keep upright during her duties, and all for the fact that attempting sleep rewards her with empty hands – or horrible night terrors. Instead, she roams the church (the only safehaven she's ever known) when the others rest their heads and pray their misery will vanish by morning. Moonlight struggles to pool through stained glass windows, the mass hall lit mostly by the candles she lights on entrance and snuffs out on exit. Such low lighting, however, has never been foreign to her. If anything, it's become more of a comfort. It reminds her of this very place if she's anywhere else, and reminds her of his poorly constructed apartment when she is not; here is where she finds forgiveness, but it is there that she finds real peace of mind.[break][break]

Quixotic. It's been years, yes – perhaps three, perhaps four, though the blonde tries hard not to get caught up on the numbers – but the nun doesn't think she could spend the rest of her life here without the remnants of disbelief scratching at the back of her mind. From the gutter to the pews: not exactly how a young girl plans her life to go. It shows in everything she does, from her inability to recall the versus and her mismatching of disciples and saints. The crowds that gather here in the mornings may never know, and she may do well to cover up her ignorance in the presence of the other Sisters, but in her own mind, it's painfully obvious that she does little more than make a mockery of their art. The stutters, the tumbles, the way she tugs on the fabric of her dress when there are simply too many people (too many, too many, all staring at her) in the room – they all burn themselves in the back of her mind, reminding her of the stark contrast between her air of perfection and a mind made of broken clockwork. She's not the only one who knows, though. She can feel it in the way her priest looks at her, the blue of his eyes cutting through her flesh, her bone, straight through to the soul where there is nothing she can hide from him. She can feel it in the way he grabs for her latter – one mistake in prayer leaves bruises on her wrists in the morning.[break][break]

Mary doesn't sleep at night. (He'll wake her if she tries.)

[attr="class","girlgonelyric"]

GUESS THAT WOMAN FALLEN IN LOVE - SHE DON'T WORK FOR FREE