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)