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I: Tell me about She's Your Cocaine. It reminds me of Heart Attack At 23 from your Y kant Tori Read days.
T: Really! (Laughs) You know, I think it is a reference to my rock chick days, but realised in a different way. There are three characters in that song - a he and a she and the girl singing it. I haven't quite figured out if the girl singing is really pissed off that she isn't special anymore, or if she is just horrified that she put this guy on a pedestal and he's now he's chosen this thing... this girl who wouldn't even be let into a real girl's party. This... black hole of nebulai.
I: That isn't very sisterly of you.
T: I think your own sex can see your sex for what it is. You know the tricks of your own sex. Sometimes you can put your little play glasses on and not want to see them. But I know when another woman is flirting with one of my crew - it's so obvious and yet they can't see it. They say 'oh she's so pained' or 'she's had all this stuff happen to her'. I know a girl like this - who uses her victimness to make people feel they can't do enough for her, that nothing is ever enough. And you're like an addict. You can't spill enough blood, you can't wrap your dick into seventeen different little shapes, y'know, like those balloons. 'Here... look! Puppy! Ice cream truck!' This song is my revenge.
-- Tori; Attitude Magazine (UK), May98
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