Roxanne

Your ice cold finger traces down the vertebrae I barely hold A film that colors everyone you know and everything you were told She's young, she doesn't understand You twist the knife and squeeze her hand You cut her open, Roxanne You cut her open, Roxanne You cut her open, Roxanne The saline smile's copy paper just to say there's someone who cares With gums receding into hidden pockets, shadows under the stairs You're caught up in the left unsaid The flowers on the bowery I put a hole in her hand I put a hole in her hand I put a hole in her hand You take the bait and breathe it in You slip into another skin You got me hoping for sand You got me hoping for sand You got me hoping for sand You got me hoping for sand You got me hoping for sand You got me hoping for sand