Wonderful Woman - The Smiths

Here her head, she lay
Until she'd rise and say,
"I'm starved of mirth,
Let's go and trip a dwarf"

Oh, what to be done with her?
Oh, what to be done with her?

Ice water for blood
With neither heart or spine
And then just
To pass time; let us go and rob the blind

What to be done with her?
I ask myself,
What to be said of her?