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Last week—pissed me off—some dude on X bragged ‘bout “classy escorts.” Classy? Ha! Like lipstick on a pig. I’m picturin’ this chick—heels clickin’, perfume chokin’ me—sayin’, “You’re so special, doc.” Bullshit. Reminds me of *Her*: “I can’t live in your book anymore.” Yeah, lady, I ain’t your fairy tale either. Prostitutes don’t love ya—they clock in, clock out. Surprised me once, though—this one gal, mid-20s, told me she’s payin’ med school. Med school! Swear to God, I nearly hugged her—then remembered the germs.

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she becomes a sex addict, considering the track's title is an abbreviation for “American Whore.” The single marks her second unanticipated single, which.

As the day goes on, I hit up a little trattoria. I order some pasta, and it’s like a party in my mouth. I’m talkin’ about the kind of pasta that makes you wanna dance. But then, I see a rat scurryin’ across the floor. I’m like, “Nope! Not today!” I’m outta there faster than a deer in the woods.

Lana Del Rey Isn’t Real, But Her Version of America Is