She's got a little book
|
She thinks it tells the truth
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Easy answers so simple she can't refuse
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It's disengenous, just like the smile on her face
|
Somewhere here there's a mind that has been misplaced
|
Taking the easy way always get you through the day
|
|
He's got a bank account
|
He's got a house in the hills
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He burns the midnight oil, he can't get off the pills
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He'd give it all away to get a little more
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He's a bright exterior, an empty core
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Doubt if he'll ever see
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They're burning him in effigy
|
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Losing yourself in the path that you've taken
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You are nothing if not vacant
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Fill yourself up just to end up more hollow
|
Fall to your knees for the false that you follow
|
|
She's got a catalog
|
It's full of hopes and dreams
|
It makes her hate herself, it's what she wants to be
|
She spends more every day, she wants the fairy tale
|
And everytime she tries, and everytimes she fails
|
She wallows in her shame
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No one but herself to blame
|
|
-----------------
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Fuzzy Pink Hand-Cuffs
|
| Dillinger Four |
