| The whole world is falling apart
|
| Feels like The Wizard of Oz
|
| So I hide away
|
| With the one thing I love
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| To sing for the trees
|
| And the birds, and the bees
|
| And the light that shines inside of me
|
| I count my change in this jar
|
| Sleep in my broken down car
|
| Question reality
|
| Can’t help but dream
|
| Of Carnegie Hall, the Chancellors Ball
|
| And the day they open their arms to me
|
| But I don’t sing my songs
|
| In hundred story buildings
|
| For dying men in businesses
|
| With vacant black hole hearts
|
| Signing the next star
|
| Cause I won’t go on stage
|
| Lit up on amphetamines
|
| Singing ripped off melodies
|
| While I fall apart
|
| I’m a one woman show
|
| And I wasn’t made for the radio
|
| If I take my clothes off to dance
|
| Will you pay attention to me
|
| If I’m mediocre
|
| And way out of tune
|
| Will I shine like a star, or a tramp in a bar
|
| Like a freak show played out masterpiece
|
| But I don’t sing my songs
|
| In hundred story buildings
|
| For dying men in businesses
|
| With vacant black hole hearts
|
| Signing the next star
|
| And I won’t go on stage
|
| Lit up on amphetamines
|
| Singing ripped off melodies
|
| While I fall apart
|
| I’m a one woman show
|
| And I wasn’t made for the radio
|
| In a world of connection
|
| We’re so damn disconnected
|
| We’re so far apart
|
| Oh I miss enjoying
|
| Bernstein and Stevie
|
| And all those works of art
|
| But I don’t sing my songs
|
| In hundred story buildings
|
| For dying men in businesses
|
| With vacant black hole hearts
|
| Selling the next star
|
| Cause I won’t go on stage
|
| Lit up on amphetamines
|
| Singing ripped off melodies
|
| While I fall apart
|
| I’m a one woman show
|
| And I wasn’t made for the radio |