Her skinny arms shine under the melting sun
Like a machete painted red
with the blood of ten thousand wild eyed Pict warriors.
Yes, that’s the whole fucking tribe, baby

She’s the owner and proprietor of a blue cabaret on the outskirts of Heaven.
She’s there to make god’s private loft less boring...and because Hell is too hot for her.

Fall for her and you’ll find yourself with a broken mirror look
And trust me, she will pick up the all right shards
You’ll end up screaming her name down every boulevard in a true MZ Blues style, getting high on cheap booze and adrenaline, while a merciless heat melts the tar below your feet

She moves her alabaster hips up and down the room
In a 30’s Hollywood-star style
Her halo is bleeding wine
And it’s now that you can feel the magnetic field around her eyes, the one that almost made you fall down the stairs that first time
Yes, the first cut is the deepest and she knows how to handle her blade

You feel like you’ve been drugged-up
Like walking towards the burning sun
Like wading through the heavy rain
Like calling up a thunderstorm
Like riding on the wrong wing of an angel

Tell her you are form Argon, a red-headed Malko, a prince in exile, hooked on sugar and sacrilegious hedonism, on illegal substances and Rimbaud, on 55% vol. alcohol and high energy rock n roll. Tell her you can drink a shipwreck full of bourbon. That you can break into God’s loft and steal his wedding ring, that you can shoot the Great Arc down with a semi-automatic Beretta.
It’s alright with her
Because "She knows too much to argue or to judge"
Because she is from Cygnus, farther that you’ll ever imagine
She rolls the dice every single night at the Tiger Ride Casino
She rides her comet-tail to the nearest gas-station
In Sun City
Solar Tray
Zip Code: X-1
Universe

Another Girl
Another Planet
Hiroko has got nothing on her

Feel her golden needle entering the back of your spine
Sometimes you feel you have made it, yes baby, it’s real, and you feel like Snake fucking Plisken catching the big wave.

What can you do for her?
Let me tell you, brother
Sniff the snow from all the mountains till your nose begins to bleed
Drink the Mississippi river
Flick your knife out in the highway, just to draw blood from the tar
Put a pink ribbon round the moon and paint the sky cherry-red
Burn the whole European shoreline, with a single book of matches.
Chase some angels in the dark till they all lose both their wings
Buy a bucket of blood and trade it for your soul
Nothing will do.

Turn the radio on
There’s an old tune:
She’s got lovers to burn
You’ve got roads to drive
They’ve got kisses to beg
Baby sharpen your knife

Baby, sharpen your heart
True love never begs
God wets her pillow
And Devil her legs

Volcanoes erupting on a Bloody Mary evening
You feel the beat drop while you wonder if that cigarette will reach the tanker
For a minute you feel like you are getting there
to that bacchanalian state of getting lost
between hell’s ditch and Go Go Yubari’s belly button

You know you love her, don’t you?