The curtain's up
|
The crowd is waiting to see you come to life
|
So take a breath - your heart is pounding
|
And step into the light
|
Because this is it - it's what you've wanted
|
You're on a stage for all to see
|
Just not the way you ever imagined
|
Got to give them what they need
|
All eyes are on you
|
Show them you deserve it
|
Because now that they all love yo
|
And now that they all know your name
|
You're a new kind of American saint
|
But all the smoke and mirrors with which you hide your fears
|
Aren't nearly enough to take away the pain
|
Of being there out on your own
|
So baby, come on back home
|
It's on at seven
|
And in the papers
|
The covers of the magazines
|
They cut you open and pulled the skin back
|
Just so they could watch you bleed
|
They made incisions for television
|
Implanted cameras between your ribs
|
Thought the could capture and manufacture your best
|
And your worst still impress me
|
With that being said
|
When you come back down
|
I'll be here waiting
|
|
-----------------
|
New American Saint
|
| Tokyo Rose |
