"Sick Girl" genre: Alternative General
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	a rock song in many ways, gut rentching vocals, mutlti layered guitars, a playfully groovy bass line, and primal drums. engineered by: dave filburn, 2001.
	MP3.com CD: starbuck | single. - buy it! CD: b-side to: starbuck single & enamorata (release date TBA)   Label: sideral records Credits: bejay thompson - lead vocals/lyrics, paul mauer - electric 12 & 6 string guitars/acoustic guitars, dave filburn - drumkit/samples & looping, jean-paul mayden - bass, esther mathison - backing vocals.
	Lyrics sick girl. I have nothing to say…nothing to say. I think your mother must have said it first...Because now you're waiting for a saint in an apron And I'm playing with my crash helmet. Bottle of wine on the table, jaded glass, awkward silences in the candlelight. I'm so Tired of talking. So tired of pretending I care. Sick girl, sick girl can't you see it’s a sickness? Think of his hands, any touch would be A blessing...and this is love because it leaves bruises. (a hand stings, a head snaps back. I can feel the blood in my veins, precious life) I have nothing to say…nothing to say. I think your mother must have said it best... Because you've got on your best deviate spaghetti straps And I think she's disappointed it fits you better than I. Go ahead, put the dog trainer on hold. I take my methods to the extreme. The only leash I have is stainless steel. No matter What you say. Oh, the pain in your eyes reminds me of home. Yes, the marquis is curious. How far can I go before I break? Keep pushing it; call me saint as you draw blood. Aren't we angels in our agony? There was a minute, I was inside you as you were inside, and you were into yourself. Tightening caress, before I blacked out, I knew you better than anyone. (feel muscles tense, oh he's around my neck. My back arches as he flattens me down…down) Is it not time, to be the love you search? Is it not time, to call madness on the floor? Honey, you're bouncing checks from your soul. There's more than this star brand On your stomach. More than the mirror says will heal. Isn't it time? Isn't it time for peace now, love? Copyright2001 Killing impulse/Caving alibi Written by Bejay Thompson, all rights reserved.

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