| She swears to never drink again
|
| Lying in her bed
|
| The bitter taste of champagne
|
| Goes when the sky is turning red
|
| She’s on her feet again
|
| Waiting for the night train
|
| She puts her fancy shiny dress
|
| For one more night of excess
|
| In her conception of success
|
| The make up she puts on her eyes
|
| Is not hiding the fakeness
|
| And the emptiness inside
|
| She pretends night after night
|
| That she’s the queen of the spotlights
|
| She smiles, so bright
|
| But she will never feel alright
|
| In this loneliness fight
|
| Lost in a plastic fairytale
|
| And the colors of the cocktails
|
| Are turning her pale as cocaine
|
| Trapped in her golden chain
|
| She tries sometimes and fail
|
| To get away from this hell
|
| The lipstick she puts on her mouth
|
| And the pills she has to swallow
|
| To escape from truth and sorrows
|
| She pretends night after night
|
| That she’s the queen of the spotlights
|
| She smiles, so bright
|
| But she will never feel alright
|
| In this loneliness fight
|
| She pretends … |