don't want slow walkin' or sad singin'. Let 'em have a jubilee I wanna leave a lot of happy women. A thinking pretty thoughts of me. I wanna live fast, love hard, die young. And leave a beautiful
Song Valley of the Lost Women - . The windows are frigidaire icebergs. Frozen in prickly heat. The vanishing cream victims. Are drip fed amnesia neat. Where the test card melodies warm you. In powder
