She puts her makeup on, like graffiti on the walls of the heartland. She’s got her little book of conspiracies right in her hand. She is paranoid like endangered species headed into extinction. She is one of a kind, she’s the last of the American Girls. She wears her overcoat for the coming of the nuclear winter. She is riding her bike like a fugitive of critical mass. She’s on a hunger strike for the ones who won’t make it for dinner. She makes enough to survive for a holiday of working class. She’s a runaway of the establishment incorporated. She won’t cooperate, she’s the last of the American Girls. She plays her vinyl records singing songs on the eve of destruction. She’s a sucker for all the criminals breaking the laws. She will come in first for the end of Western civilization. She’s an endless war, she’s a hero for the lost cause. Like a hurricane in the heart of devastation. She’s a natural disaster, she’s the last of the American Girls.
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