| You wear a black leather belt
|
| That holds the waist I used to hold
|
| Your colours fade
|
| But not the colour of your jeans
|
| You wear a hat with pretty swirls
|
| The envy of the other girls
|
| You change you shades before
|
| The day turns into eve
|
| Think I better let it go
|
| Think I better let it go
|
| Cos I’m thinking I’m last years runway passion
|
| No longer in fashion
|
| And I find myself obsessed
|
| By how you dress
|
| And whom you see when you’re without me
|
| We’re never caught in picture frames
|
| The paparazzi know our names
|
| They know like fashion
|
| Our love is not for real
|
| The weathers fine but in your mind
|
| You need that flare and so you wear
|
| Big blue fur and feathered hair
|
| To fit your skin
|
| Think I better let it go
|
| Think I better let it go
|
| Cos I’m thinking I’m last years runway passion
|
| No longer in fashion
|
| And I find myself obsessed
|
| By how you dress
|
| And whom you see when you’re without me
|
| Yes I find myself obsessed
|
| By how you dress
|
| And whom you see when you’re without me
|
| Think I better let it go
|
| Think I better let it go
|
| Cos I’m thinking I’m last years runway passion
|
| No longer in fashion
|
| And I find myself obsessed
|
| By how you dress
|
| And whom you see when you’re without me
|
| Oh I find myself obsessed
|
| By how you dress
|
| And whom you see when you’re without me
|
| Yes I find myself obsessed
|
| By how you dress
|
| And whom you see when you’re without me |