You have a dangerous face and an illegal taste

You have a dangerous face and an illegal taste,
And that strap is fallen on that shoulder blade
You risked it all for your five minutes of fame,
But that's a shooting star and the clue is in the name.

Carry out the riffles and bring in the spades,
The cops are at the door and we don't have time to waste.
The liquor coats your breath like a watch so misplaced,
Breathe in so we can take three inches off your waist.

Eyes are black, painted up like a model,
But as you walk the thin line your legs seem to wobble.
But don't worry doll, the world is at your feet.
You gave it all up for a desire so discrete.

Bones show their colour more than ever before,
And they're coming for your stash hidden in the top drawer.
The media have so much they're responsible for,
But just tell yourself, baby, you are still hardcore.