This is the story of a post-modern muse Internationally minded and nothing to lose She was young, hanging out, nobody waiting at home Her name was passion, she was the enemy of love Another fading beauty on the sunset strip When our muse abused of a few substances Her reputation was cut into pieces Watching the sky where the true stars belong to She knew if the sun goes down it goes up too Another fading beauty on the sunset strip From a thousand trips into wonderland She kept on throwing bottles and SOS But when she passed out we watched her sleep Another fading beauty on the sunset strip Another fading beauty on the sunset strip
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