Sex and dying in high society

You started out that way you'd do anything to stay and keep your
Money boys made of silver and gold keep your pekinese, turkish
Cigarettes and your lighter that looks like a gun so you marry
Your daddy with a different name sex and dying in high society
That pretty man of yours the one hiding inside the director's
Clothes the one who calls you dear after banging away at you in
The night that one's just got to go every time you look at him
You could almost just fall asleep and there's a masturbating
Getting underneath the bed and now you tell the maid to burn you
On your virgin back with a curling iron hotter than hot you say
It's good enough you say your pain is better than any kind of
Love