Brett Anderson

My elegant girl slept on designer sheets
Her sugar free words swayed to a hightech beat
With crazy stories of hatred and hurt
People's feelings were crushed in the dirt
My elegant girl she drips out with the leaves
Gave no interviews in her tennis shoes
Well there's no excuse for infamy
From their college towns
To the overground
People hung on every word she breathed
My elegant girl moved with the hippest crowds
Whose colorful words were bright but never loud
Gave no interviews, in her mohair suits
Well there's no excuse for infamy