I've been pro-vanity since I was ten.
|
I picture altars in past the shutters-den
|
Baby bottle didn't choke
|
there were no cherry lollipops, cherry lip smacker and I got off
|
Marry money have a child, keep it pretty ugly as you eat sushi and drink cocktails.
|
|
And I'm sick of your smile
|
And I'm sick of your cake
|
And I'm sick of your meaningless blather
|
And I'm sick of your hair
|
And I wish it weren't there
|
Maybe some night I'll visit you sweetly
|
|
There is no place I would rather be killed
|
Than in my own backyard
|
On my own propane grill
|
And lolly didn't stop the little melancholy absence and I felt high so I ripped it off
|
Money prices an unborn child it would be hated[?]
|
But you should be wary of those thirty fall drops
|
|
And I'm sick when I breathe
|
And I wish you would leave
|
At the very least have an abortion
|
I don't need a damn life
|
And I don't think it's right
|
For a woman to breed for attention
|
|
I've been pro-vanity since I could know
|
No one will ever care to see what I don't show
|
And momma didn't lock and load it
|
Secretly we see
|
Could see a letter and withstood the shock
|
Oh my daddy felt I knew and consequently
|
Took control and took over the hope that was you
|
|
And I'm sick of myself
|
And I wish you could help
|
If you want to you can pull out the ladder
|
Oh, and it sounds so indulgent
|
Amazing I've managed
|
To keep you engaged for just four fucking minutes
|
And maybe you'd be provanity
|
|
-----------------
|
Provanity
|
| Amanda Palmer |