Testo New Pollution

She's got a cigarette on each armShe's got the lily-white cavity crazesShe's got a carborator tied to the moonPink gods looking to the fruit of the agesShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's got a hand on a wheel of painShe can talk to the mangling strangersShe can sleep in a fiery barnThrowing troubles to the dying embersShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's got a paradise camoflaugeLike a whip-crack sending me shiversShe's a boat through a strip-mine oceanRiding low on the drunken rivers