Her toys are broken boys
Lined heart to heart at her door
Each a burnt-out kiss on her lips
A measure of her pleasure
She's at a nice age
Ripe age
Ready to be killed by the thrill
She's at a nice age
Ripe age
Ready to be killed by the thrill
The child in her smile is cracked
Her innocence smashed
There's nothing left of her party dress
The bow in her hair isn't there
She's at a nice age
Ripe age
Ready to be killed by the thrill
She's at a nice age
Ripe age
Ready to be killed by the thrill
She's coming up like a flower
Through the prisons of perfume
Alone with her cheekbones
Counting lovers she has known
In the secrets of her room
Her toys are broken boys
Lined heart to heart at the door
Each a burnt-out kiss on her lips
A measure of her pleasure
She's at a nice age
Ripe age
Ready to be killed by the thrill
She's at a nice age
Ripe age
Ready to be killed by the thrill
She's at a nice age, ripe age (The taste of first lipstick)
Ready to be killed by the thrill (The mechanics of a wink)
She's at a nice age, ripe age (The china of the doll)
Ready to be killed by the thrill (Divine on her chaise lounge)
She's at a nice age...

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