Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Scenester, artist - Cage.
Date of issue: 19.09.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Scenester |
This is the soundtrack… to one specific girl’s life |
The soundtrack to one specific… girl’s life |
You take this specific song… and stick it right in your head automatica folder |
By the time that she wake up and smear on her make up |
She’s dressed to kill, no heart behind her A-cup |
Silly girl from upstate, I could have loved her |
No surprise ties was severed, the girl was a cutter |
Used to hack her arm up for attention |
I kinda related to the state of her depression |
My head down walkin' through a do or die world |
Of course I’d get hooked on a suicide girl |
Told me God was gonna see her by Easter |
Still I kept my doubts, she was such a scenester |
You know the model type that never becomes a model |
Counts her tips with bloody hands from opening bottles |
She’s so shallow and hallow |
So sick you’d think this girl was bein' buried tomorrow |
In Key Largo without you too bent to feel this |
Cause all we had in common was mental illness |
Oh! |
I got you where I want you |
Far enough for me to seem not too |
Insane but you’re sicker than me |
So when I slip into psychosis you’re my secretary |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
Her boyfriend’s in a band playing her college |
But like her model career: completely unaccomplished |
Stage hand gets fucked over and over |
By this clinically depressed suicidal Cage fan (man) |
For the sake of the irony why lose it |
You were the guy who put the girl up on my music |
Scandalous, sick, seething opportunist |
But you had to respect, her gangster was ruthless |
Told me it was only me making her brain stir |
I kept my doubts she was such a aimster |
Little boys were lap dogs for smack runs |
Then the angel clipped her wings and found a tat gun |
My friend or fling is looking for amenities |
And alternates her friends to keep switching her identities |
Bump this on your little stereo at home pissed |
Lookin' through your portfolio of phone pics |
Oh! |
I got you where I want you |
Far enough for me to seem not too |
Insane but you’re sicker than me |
So when I slip into psychosis you’re my secretary |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
Her talk is slick, her walk’s a vanilla sundae |
Catwalk through dog shit in the yard like a runway |
She bit my neck, would kiss me 'til my lips sore |
Clothes smelled of Gucci with a little hint of thrift store |
See if you can find her, queen of the diner |
Had her arm in every pic 'til she figured out the timer |
Used dudes in love, picked out tools precise |
But couldn’t use those tools to fix her life |
She loved drama so much she used it as a moniker |
Dudes tryin' to bang her pretend to be photographers |
But to her credit she ain’t listen to any pop |
Hipster lover underground rappers and indie rock |
She put the razor to her arm and dug so many gashes |
I could have wrote this song in between the slashes |
Funny how you never opened a vein to out you |
But you vain enough to think this song is about you |
No! |
I got you where I want you |
Far enough for me to seem not too |
Insane but you’re sicker than me |
So when I slip into psychosis you’re my secretary |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |
She’s a scenester |