Frida

Frida, was blinded by the headlights

Her ankles were dancing with the cobbles on the floor

She was flying, above the Seel Street night life

And then Frida, she flew through the blue door

Head spinning

You're getting vodka on the walls

Hair's thinning

You can smell the bleach through the floors

It's 4 in the morning

And your friends have left your side