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It was the summer that my friends wanted
to be poor Nancy Spungen with track marks

and ripped fishnets we were tripping balls blood
acid drain-o paranoid as if narcs

would bust us as if I could fill my lungs
with your breath your bloodshot eyes a command

urging me begging for tastes bites lips tongues
pressure please I’m bleeding without my hand

on your breast naked under your leather
jacket “never trust a junkie” Nancy

said in the alley skirt pulled to hips blunt
tongue in deep where are you now my lover?

we were kids wanna-be London junkies
without needle marks it was all different