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Skin stretched into a school girl pout, flashing at the buses, Lambrini in the bushes, all change. The kids are so quiet, almost like they know, something's got to happen, something's got to change, all change. You never used to get paralytic, well maybe I should get paralytic. And she asks herself why our lives just come and go? And are we ever gonna get a voice of our own? Skin stretched into a school girl pout, handbags getting smaller, pagers out to dinner, how strange. Tastes like the waste of the Marlboro factory burning down, well no one's getting younger, so check how black your lungs are, now change. And she asks herself why our lives just come and go? And are we ever gonna get a voice of our own? Don't check your hair in her eyes or she will never glow, and are we ever gonna get a voice of our own? And patch up all your souls, pour concrete in the holes. |
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