She was the seed of this ghost town, broke down and choked up
With a scar across her jugular from when she got her throat cut
But she was beautiful, make no doubt about it
But her addictions ran together, she couldn't live without them
This is the story of Beauty and the Low-life
A stones-throw vice confessional about a cold knife
She hailed from the city of fallen angels and broken gla**
But all the d** in the world can't fix a broken past
He saw the sky in her eyes, but why was it raining all the time?
He tried to delay her demise, but that was a mountain no man could climb
He saw her die inside, and he tried to abide by her cries
But he spiraled downward too and there went his life
He tried to be her knight in shining armor but the armor rusted
From the amount of vodka drank and PCP he dusted
He laid down next right to her when she slapped the patch on
The both of their thighs and that's when they said so long
She became a skeleton for hire, without a thought to inspire
He became her enabler, a victim of her life on the wire
She was a starving artist, anorexia was her canvas
He painted his sins with a needle stretched out on their mattress
She was the Queen of Hearts, and fentanyl tore her apart
He looked for every reason to depart, so sore was his heart
She played the game and lost, she cried herself to sleep
He lifted off without her, trying to escape this pipe dream
She hated her life, oh what became of this beauty queen
He resigned to their demise, and just gave up without fighting
She left this planet without a thought engulfed in a phencyclidine dream
He couldn't manage his pain without swallowing his greed
She ruminated on their love, and where it went astray
He tried to bring her back to life, but she was much too far away
She was too far out of this world, she left without a trace
He lost sight of her, and so he fell quietly out of place