Dirt poor vagrant with expensive taste.
Ashes of a cigarette in a priceless vase.
She say’s that I’m a high end, lit cigar.
Gold-trimmed, marble heart.
Dying for the money and fame.
That I’m an almost famous movie star,
living in a stolen car.
Shoulda bought a better face.
She knows it cause she’s well off.
Ain’t gotta worry bout the money at all.
So clear to see it when you’re
living in a glass house,
throwing stones at the ground.
Oh, she knows it cause she’s well off.
Smile so vacant,
the doctors on call.
She says, “pin me back, just a little more.
Let ‘em know, I’m the happiest doll on the wall.”
She says that it’s a rat race, dog eat dog.
Everyone’s another cog,
looking for a way to break out.
She sold her soul for diamond rings,
now she can’t feel anything.
Heavy, heavy lies the crown.
It’s all about the money baby.