| I’ve never been too popular with you or your friends
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| But you go around, slitting your wrists for attention, selling your soul for
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| gold and oh my God it’s getting old
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| I don’t want to scare you, you’ve just been so afraid your entire life
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| I snuff out a cigarette walk downtown, where every face looks like a celebrity
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| But it’s all the same to me, it’s one hell of a life here in these dreams
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| You want to be rich I know, I know (Top dollar shoes and fancy clothes),
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| you want to be that pig with lipstick on, lip syncing all of her songs.
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| Everybody wants to be famous, run to California, where the artists kill
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| themselves and the actors die from the medication
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| And who needs God when you have money, and who needs love when you have sex.
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| I need another pill to get me through this mess. |
| I need a cut below the eye,
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| I’m hanging on by crows feet, wither away, with dry bones and chardonnay.
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| I need another article to say my name again
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| You want to be rich I know, I know (Top dollar shoes and fancy clothes),
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| you want to be that pig with lipstick on, lip syncing all of her songs.
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| Everybody wants to be famous, run to California, where no one is quite
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| themselves, and living is just copying someone else
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| Hey, do you know, you’re not impressing me. |
| (I'll be the one to tell you)
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| You can see through everyone but yourself, and does it make you sick?
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| Does it make you bite your lip when it happens to the ones that you love?
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| Is your finger so far down your throat? |