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So fucking easy to believe it |
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Too hard to comprehend |
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How you sleaze with perfect ease |
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To the constant changing tides of trend |
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Breathing carbon copy |
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From the pages of a glossy magazine |
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Prototype to prototype, addicted to the norm |
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In a crazy world of mad machines |
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It's not easy staring at a T.V. |
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To prove to me that money's got no soul |
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Hoping for a blind spot, gotta fill a time slot |
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Collecting cash wrapped in a bullshit role |
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Have to laugh when I'm watching |
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Those perfect families shining on the screen |
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Prototype to prototype, distorted in its form |
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In this unreal world of dreams |
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Inside, outside, inside out |
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Who knows where they're going |
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If they don't know what they're doing |
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If they don't know what they're about |
|
Inside, outside, inside out |
|
Is someone gonna sell me what I'm about ? |
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Never claimed to be the one and only |
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An original non emulated style |
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Prototype to prototype, can't differ anyway |
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When there's passion and fame all the while |
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Never easy to be original |
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The evil of an influence can often sway the mind |
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Of what you feel, and what you see |
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In this world of identity |
|
Inside, outside, inside out |
|
Who knows where they're going |
|
If they don't know what they're doing |
|
If they don't know what they're about |
|
Inside, outside, inside out |
|
Is someone gonna sell me what I'm about ? |
|
Inside, outside, inside out |
|
Who knows where they're going |
|
If they don't know what they're doing |
|
If they don't know what they're about |
|
Stylistic addiction, so set in its way |
|
Prototype people won't differ, can't change |
|
Taught how to lie, act and to breathe, that's not me |
|
A breathing carbon copy |
|
From the pages of a glossy magazine |
|
Prototype to prototype, distorted in its form |
|
In this unreal world of dreams |
|
Inside, outside, inside out |
|
Outside, inside, inside out |
|
Inside, outside, inside out |
|
Does someone wanna sell me what I'm about ? |
