She was the seed of this ghost town, broke down and choked up With a scar across her jugular from when she got her throat cut But she was beautiful, make no doubt about it But her addictions ran together, she couldn't live without them This is the story of Beauty and the Low-life A stones-throw vice confessional about a cold knife She hailed from the city of fallen angels and broken gla** But all the d** in the world can't fix a broken past He saw the sky in her eyes, but why was it raining all the time? He tried to delay her demise, but that was a mountain no man could climb He saw her die inside, and he tried to abide by her cries But he spiraled downward too and there went his life He tried to be her knight in shining armor but the armor rusted From the amount of vodka drank and PCP he dusted He laid down next right to her when she slapped the patch on The both of their thighs and that's when they said so long She became a skeleton for hire, without a thought to inspire
He became her enabler, a victim of her life on the wire She was a starving artist, anorexia was her canvas He painted his sins with a needle stretched out on their mattress She was the Queen of Hearts, and fentanyl tore her apart He looked for every reason to depart, so sore was his heart She played the game and lost, she cried herself to sleep He lifted off without her, trying to escape this pipe dream She hated her life, oh what became of this beauty queen He resigned to their demise, and just gave up without fighting She left this planet without a thought engulfed in a phencyclidine dream He couldn't manage his pain without swallowing his greed She ruminated on their love, and where it went astray He tried to bring her back to life, but she was much too far away She was too far out of this world, she left without a trace He lost sight of her, and so he fell quietly out of place