Or so somebody said
A victim of entropy
And bullets in the head
She worked an English day
From 9 to 17
Captains of Industry
Were ghosts in her machine
She had a bad head, a bad head, a bad head
She had a part to play
She played it very well
No one would ever know her private living hell
One night the lights went out
Her mind just blew a fuse
I read it all today on the early evening news
She had a bad head, a bad head, a bad head
Some people dream at night
They wake up - they get old
Some people scream at night
Some people explode
You heard that hollow sound
You smoke the cigarette of doubt
You have to swallow it down
She just blew it out
Silhoutte the letter, the note on the night stand
Picking up the pieces that had never been one
I can recollect the note she left in her right hand
The note she wrote that she signed with a gun.
