Second_Hand_Women_Song.md

# Song About Second-Hand Women

A Hunter S. Thompson-style howl for the worn-out souls traded like faded leather jackets in the fever dream of American excess.

## Verse 1
In the neon haze of Vegas strip joints and motel blackouts,  
Second-hand women drift like ghosts in thrift-store dresses,  
Passed around like a bottle of rotgut whiskey,  
Each scar a story etched in the chrome of broken dreams.  
They've been loved too hard and left in the dust,  
Wives of weekend warriors, mistresses of the midnight run,  
Trading kisses for cab fare in the shadow of billboards screaming promises.

## Chorus
Oh, second-hand women, you're the queens of the junkyard throne,  
Washed-up in the wash of cheap motels and dawn's cruel light,  
You've got the fire of a stolen Cadillac engine,  
Burning rubber on the highway to nowhere,  
Second-hand women, with your lipstick smeared like war paint,  
You're the wild ones who know the price of every second chance.

## Verse 2
I met one in a dive bar off Route 66, eyes like shattered bourbon bottles,  
She'd been pawned off by a salesman with a suitcase full of lies,  
Her laugh a shotgun blast through the smoke, cutting through the haze,  
We talked of ex-husbands and one-night stands, ghosts in the rearview mirror,  
She said, "Honey, we're all second-hand in this carnival of freaks,"  
Wearing hand-me-down hearts that beat to the rhythm of the road.

## Bridge
In the acid rain of forgotten towns, where the bill collectors howl,  
Second-hand women rise like phoenixes from the ash of bad decisions,  
They've danced with devils and dodged the dawn,  
Sipping cocktails mixed with tears and tabloid tales,  
But hell, they've got the guts to keep rolling,  
In a world that chews up the pure and spits out the survivors.

## Chorus (Outro)
Oh, second-hand women, you're the sirens of the salvage yard,  
With your stories tattooed on skin that's seen better days,  
You're the unsung anthems in a symphony of sin,  
Riding shotgun in the great American nightmare,  
Second-hand women, forever chasing that elusive high,  
In the endless loop of love's cruel carousel.