lost cause

she's a peach
but her head's full of bleach

washed out stripped out
torn down burned out
wasted shell
going to hell
one of the most wonderful
people you could ever meet

she's a peach
but her head's full of bleach

and she turns around
she turns round
running down the street
if she trips she falls
down the silent halls
no victory in her defeat

so she doesn't know
the things you know

she can't see
but she knows how to relate
to the emptiness inside
the fear watered weeds
and the darkness that resides
it's not right

she's not right
she's not right for me

but she can sing like the wind
if you listen to her cry
you hear her scream in the night
as she's running out the door
turn around
and round

she's a peach
but her head's full of bleach

and there's no way of knowing
when the maker she will meet
if it's not in hours
it will seem like hours
if it's not in years
you will still feel the tears

such a silly waste
of a perfectly good smile