| She ain’t crazy like he said she was
|
| There’s no mistaking how it’s all adding up
|
| Lipstick on his collar, smoke from that revolver
|
| He can try and call her crazy, oh but she ain’t crazy
|
| But she’s going to make him pay
|
| You can see it on her face
|
| Black mascara, Moulin Rouge
|
| Blood red lipstick, high heeled shoes
|
| It’s her turn to do him wrong
|
| That ain’t makeup she got on
|
| It’s war paint, war paint
|
| Go on girl and make that man feel your pain, your pain
|
| Nah she, she ain’t leaving
|
| 'Cause that won’t hurt enough
|
| Yeah she’ll get even if it’s the last thing that she does
|
| She’ll go undercover, find another lover
|
| Hope that he’ll discover what she’s done
|
| No she ain’t leaving 'cause she’s already gone
|
| The battle lines are drawn
|
| Black mascara, Moulin Rouge
|
| Blood red lipstick, high heeled shoes
|
| It’s her turn to do him wrong
|
| That ain’t makeup she got on
|
| It’s war paint, war paint
|
| He’s gonna see that two can play that game, that game
|
| That ain’t makeup she’s got on
|
| It’s war paint, yeah
|
| Black mascara, Moulin Rouge
|
| Blood red lipstick, high heeled shoes
|
| Two wrongs ain’t right but she don’t care
|
| All is fair tonight
|
| She’s wearing war paint
|
| Go on girl and make that man feel your pain, your pain
|
| He’s gonna see that two can play that game, that game
|
| 'Cause that ain’t makeup she got on
|
| It’s war paint |