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Beck - The New Pollution
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Shes got cigarette on each arm 
Shes got the lily-white cavity crazes 
Shes got a carburetor tied to the moon 
Pink eyes looking to the food of the ages 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes 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 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes got a paradise camouflage 
Like a whip-crack sending me shivers 
Shes a boat through a strip-mine ocean 
Riding low on the drunken rivers 
Shes alone in the new pollution 
Shes alone in the new pollution