Beck

The New Pollution

She's got cigarette on each arm
She's got the lily-white cavity crazes
She's got a carborator tied to the moon
Pink eyes looking to the food of the ages

She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

She's got a hand on a wheel of pain
She can talk to the mangling strangers
She can sleep in a fiery bog
Throwing troubles to the dying embers

She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

She's got a paradise camoflauge
Like a whip-crack sending me shivers
She's a boat through a strip-mine ocean