Look at yourself
|
life in extreme
|
you're a symbol of wealth and luxury
|
fashionable clothes
|
champagne on ice
|
that your definition of paradise
|
|
You'd sell your soul for glamour
|
and trade your heart for gold
|
you've got eccentric manners
|
you're in control
|
on top of the hill
|
what you don't know
|
is that you're mentally ill
|
|
Cause your mins is where the
|
money
|
is and it never changes
|
you go blind when you feel the bliss
|
of the ghost that huants your mind
|
your blind
|
|
Valuable friends prestigious might
|
they'll be gone with the wind
|
when money's tight
|
in the eyes of the man on the street
|
it all seems so absurd
|
your selfish greed
|
|
Material goods mislead us
|
the rich will tax the poor
|
we bite the hands that feed us
|
and ask for more
|
it's tearing you up
|
when money talks
|
you can't get enough
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
Can you feel it when it tears your
|
soul into pieces
|
|
One day the score will be equal
|
again
|
and the rich will descend from his
|
throne
|
you can't buy your way into heaven
|
my friend
|
you see fate has its price
|
on its own
|
|
You've been blinded
|
you just can't hide it
|
you can't hide it
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Your Mind Is Where The Money Is
|
| Pretty Maids |
