Grow and die,
like small traces of a lingering thought,
singing to the sound of static,
and lo' my sweetheart grows ever so fair,
growing and dyin' like that thought in the air,
bitch, nobody asked for a selfish opinion,
don't ask to know something when you're not up to listen,
but, I'll tell you darlin' I've had better days,
Dodging each question with a "Yes, it's okay."
and please don't cry upon the bathroom floor,
whispering obscenities to yourself, behind closed doors,
More make up, more acting, more stunt men for hire,
You won't get by no one without being a liar.
Belting out love songs, for the proper reaction,
but the crowd won't stop booing and crying for action.
so offer your head, upon a silver platter,
dress it up nicely,
because nothing else matters.