You are the center of your own private little constellation
And you are the jury and judge of every little deconstructed fable
And you like the way it is, you don't want to question it
You're the wonder of God's own handiworkYeah, you wear Versace but you look like a dirty bird
And yeah, even the Paparazzi think you're quite absurdVenus of your own consent
Is there anything you give up for Lent?
Oh, parasite, oh, peacock of pride
Will you let the little people see inside you?And you don't wanna question it
And you're looking quite possessed
You're the wonder of God's own handiworkYeah, you wear Versace but you look like a
And yeah, even the buying public think you're quite a jerk
And you're trapped in your little castle
Like Randolph Hearst in his fringe and tasselYeah, you wear Versace but you look like a
And yeah, even the Paparazzi think you're quite absurdThere's too much information on the television
Innocent we have been sprung and innocent we are
You don't know how to feel, you don't know
This is the eye of the storm, this is society
Songwriters
Cole Erick Blane; Max KevinPublished by
BLIND THIEF PUBLISHING;UP IN THE MIX MUSIC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.