I tend to write songs as polemics, personal attacks with back beat. Here’s my latest. This was especially satisfying to complete as the title has been kicking around in my head for months. As usual, the mixing is too loud and a bit too squished, but I’ve already spent too much time on it to start over. Try to look past it and enjoy!
(You) got Debbie Harry’s glamour with a heart made out of stone (You) got no room for clothing ’cause your closets always full of bones you’ve sewn pain and anger in the lives of everyone you’ve known you talk about yourself so loud just so no one can hear the moans
You’ve got all the smartest gear You’re dressed to the nines You’re make-up is perfect but you’re shabby on the inside shabby on the inside shabby on the inside you’re dressed to impress but you’re shabby on the inside
you’ve left behind a trail of broken hearts and broken homes but time is gaining fast and your steps are getting slow one day your victims will get a clue like Sherlock Holmes and what will you be left with after your good looks finally go
You’ve got a golden ear but you’re heart is made of tin you’re never invited back to any place that you’ve ever been it’s like a broken record when you come ’round begging again and I’m not sure I can afford the high cost of being your friend
You know all of the best songs You sing every line Your Record collection is perfect but you’re shabby on the inside shabby on the inside shabby on the inside Record collection is perfect but you’re shabby on the inside
you’re already sick of bands that haven’t even formed well I’m sick of supporting you it’s already been too long if you think I owe you anything you’re misinformed i think it’s about time that you learned to sing a different song