Less of a singer, you are more, more of a prostitute.
|
With aspirations for a life of sex and drug abuse.
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When did the music turn into a beauty pageant?
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Lately my sense of pride has been chronically absent.
|
|
(Chorus)
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Domesticate.
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So much for combat.
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My worst habits are mounting a comeback,
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Dollars and pence, cubic or metric,
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You can sit down, but the chairs are electric,
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Lay in the street, embrace the gutter,
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Easier than working for something better,
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Pull on my boots, run through the back door,
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Should have been more careful what I wished for.
|
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Less of an artist, you are more, more of a xerox machine,
|
You sit tracing the pages of juxtapoz magazine,
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When did the music turn into a beauty pageant?
|
I've become a participant in something I once stood against
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
I should have never given birth to this monster (x2)
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From all this shame I'd like to hide my head in the ground.
|
|
(instrumental chorus)
|
(Chorus)
|
|
-----------------
|
Sugar Wolf
|
| From Autumn To Ashes |
