| The heir is introduced
|
| She waltzes through her ballroom
|
| Swirling in her sequins, showing off her gown
|
| She steps on her own train
|
| She falls, she cracks her jaw
|
| Aghast her husband giggles
|
| He gasps
|
| She slipped on spilled champagne
|
| And we crowd around the accident
|
| We want to see the worst
|
| We crowd around the accident
|
| We want to see what hurts
|
| They’re leaning in the corner
|
| He’s buried in a baggie
|
| They say he’s mischevious sometimes
|
| She’s pretty, and her elbows are so pointy
|
| They’re dangerous talking in the locker room
|
| His nose bleeds so profusely
|
| But no one tell him he’s the star
|
| They watch like at the movies that he’s famous for
|
| And we crowd around the accident
|
| We want to see the worst
|
| We crowd around the accident
|
| We want to see what hurts
|
| Two stories about to fall
|
| Boasting at the swing set, marching down the hall
|
| She yelled, 'cause he upset her desk
|
| Don’t yell
|
| He’s picking sides, he’s hitching rides to school
|
| His father left in winter
|
| He’s no one’s son
|
| If I can poke her with a pencil, I can pop her with a gun
|
| And we crowd around the accident
|
| We want to see the worst
|
| We crowd around the accident
|
| We want to see what hurts
|
| We think…
|
| I’m glad it wasn’t me
|
| And turn up the TV
|
| And squeeze our eyes shut, but leave a space to see |