You see the pictures in the magazine
Wishin' that your life was that interesting
Material things in your twisted soul
Don't hold your breath because you just might blow
You spend an hour on your fuckin' hair
But you don't know that nobody really cares
You watch your stories on the TV screen
Reality's become your favorite thing
Take a good look at your delusional mind
So inescure you're scared of what you'll find
You cover up the lines that show on your face
The others up your nose for fictional grace