"You look so perfect standing there
In my American apparel underwear
And I know now, that I'm so down
Your lipstick stain is a work of art
I got your name tattooed in an arrowed heart
And I know now, that I'm so down (hey!). . ."
The unearthly descant — sounding more like a frustrated harangue from a rat that had been starving for months — escaped from Oriana's mouth as she bounced from one couch to another, the daily newspaper folded into a cylindrical shape, resembling a microphone held in her paws as the music — from artistes unknown to Emerald — continued blasting through the speaker, making Emerald's ear throb from the noise.
She really had no idea how she sounded. Even the grunts from a gravid donkey in labour sounded more bearable than the sounds that left her
