So you finally got what you wanted
|
You've achieved your aim by making the walking lame
|
And when you just can't get any higher
|
You use your senses to suss out this week's climber
|
And the small fame that you've acquired
|
Has brought you into cult status
|
But to me you're still a collector
|
|
There's tarts and whores but you're much more
|
You're a different kind because you want their minds
|
And you just don't care 'cause you've got no brain
|
It's just that face on your pillowcase that thrills you
|
|
And you've started looking much older
|
And your fashion sense is second rate like your perfume
|
But to you in your own little dream world
|
You're still the queen of the butterfly collectors
|
|
You carry on 'cause it's all you know
|
You can't light a fire, you can't cook or sew
|
You get from day to day by filling your head
|
But you surely must know the thrill between your legs has worn off
|
|
And I don't care about morals
|
Because the world's insane and we're all to blame anyway
|
And I don't feel any sorrow
|
Towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors
|
|
There's tarts and whores but you're much more
|
You're a different kind 'cause you want their minds
|
And you just don't care 'cause you've got no brains
|
It's just a face on your pillowcase that thrills you
|
|
You carry on because it's all you know
|
You can't light a fire, you can't cook or sew
|
You get from day to day be filling your head
|
But you surely must know the thrill between your legs has worn off
|
|
And I don't feel any sorrow towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors
|
|
-----------------
|
Butterfly Col
|
Garbage |