That black trench coat girl follows them.
She watches, he black hair matted down with knots, she has no where to go.
Her body’s thin, like a stray dog, he voice deep and chilling.
Her attitudes like hell and no one knows her name. Big black boots slam against the pavement as she walks. She makes the headlines for her criminal acts her high pitched scream and where does she go at night?
Part of no in crowd no out crowd she’s no cast out. Her lip ring dangles like a pangolin swinging in no particular beat.
Her long nails painted black her cigarette hangs from her red lips her deep eyes stare you down and she just walks alone, the girl with no name.