| And there's no clothes I can buy | |
| Make me feel like myself | |
| She said, so I put on clothes | |
| To make me look, feel like someone else instead | |
| As a matter of fact I don't like to be seen | |
| 'Cause I'm not satisfied with myself | |
| She said, you better hit her | |
| She said, she said, she said, she said, she's dead | |
| There no perfume I can buy | |
| Make me smell like myself | |
| So I put on perfume | |
| To make me smell like someone else in bed | |
| And as a matter of fact | |
| I don't like to be scented | |
| I don't like to smell myself | |
| She said you better hit her | |
| She said, she said, she said, she said, she said | |
| But I'm not afraid of being more than pretty | |
| While you're getting paid | |
| To wind yourselves up until you drop, yeah | |
| There no one I can talk to | |
| Like I talk to myself | |
| She said, so I play games to make them | |
| Think I'm someone else, it's inbred | |
| As a matter of fact | |
| I don't like to be seen | |
| 'Cause I'm not satisfied with myself | |
| She said, you better hit her | |
| I'm not afraid | |
| Of being more than pretty | |
| While you're getting paid | |
| To wind yourselves up until you drop | |
| She said, she said, she said | |
| She's dead, she's dead, she's sad, she's played | |
| It's ingrained, she's stained | |
| She's played, she's trade | |
| I've fucked up inside my own head | |
| And what the hell I'm doing | |
| In a place like this | |
| I know exactly why I'm here, me |
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