Like cigarettes light ribbons
In the red light district
Where they intersect like rhythms
You look at life through a prism
Willing to split the difference
If only for the right schism
Elegance takes percision
Catch flies with simple syrup
Sacrifice pure vision
Truth is a nervous system
Balanced on the precipice
Of perfect wisdom
Who’s gonna marry me now?
Or carry me out?
Or stare me down?
Downstairs, the fair’s letting out
The affair’s getting out
Who cares? It’s just sound
Like innocence? Try prison
Like you won’t take deliverance
Whatever hole you find it in
Violence is a given
From the other side of the fence
It’s just like television
I’ll admit there’s been some dereliction
I’ll seek forgiveness, you get the permissions
Life’s a bit like a burn victim: we see it's
Harsh reality, and yet we prefer fiction
Like, this is nice
But is it worth it?
Does it justify it's price?
Does it serve it's worthless purpose?
Will you heed your own advice?
If you want to make it work
It’s best to check everything twice
In lieu of two new sets of eyes
Incentivize some passersby...
She feels no strings inside her stomach
But that doesn’t mean they're not there
Much less never were
And the audiences love it
Their expectations plummet
I bring to mind the things she’s signed but
She’s long since memorized her lines
And she’s terrified in public
Objectified by her subjects
“Who’s gonna marry me now?
Where are we now? You’re wearing me out.”
If you want ‘em to care ten years from now
Then here’s how. Shout:
These things are nice, but it ain’t worth it
I been wasted half my life
I been trained to thing I deserve it
I’ve been dumb and deaf and blind
This ain’t right
I ain’t perfect. I ain’t trying to say...
Things are nice
But it ain’t worth it
It ain’t worth it
Come on