| She looks pretty good in blue she’s worn it out a lot. |
| You look good on
|
| Paper too when actually you’re not. |
| She’s not looking anymore for
|
| Someone to feel sorry for so don’cha come round no more. |
| She’s got
|
| Pretty fake eye-lashes, slanted plastic glasses. |
| Everyone who passes
|
| Says she looks beautiful. |
| But don’t even think about asking her to dance
|
| Cause in your sackcloth and ashes you’re never gonna have a chance.
|
| Sackcloth and ashes. |
| She smeared you with her fingerprints just because
|
| She could. |
| She’s not sorry for her sins as long as she looks good. |
| How
|
| Can she have so much fun knowing all the things she’s done. |
| She’s bad,
|
| She’s strong, or maybe she’s stupid. |
| But she’s got pretty party dresses,
|
| Manic-panic tresses. |
| She believes that less is more where you’re
|
| Concerned. |
| And you can only dream about the places that she’s been cause
|
| In your sackcloth and ashes they’re never gonna let you in. One day
|
| Maybe you’ll be way beyond this silly habit you’ve put on. |
| Though and
|
| Strong enough and wrong and wrong enough for long enough to belong
|
| There. |
| But till that day comes along you’ll be sullen and regretful
|
| Querulous and fretful carrying a head full of evil thoughs and there’ll
|
| Be lots of girls and people who want to know where you stand but in your
|
| Sackcloth and ashes you’ll never make them understand. |
| Sackcloth and
|
| Ashes. |
| Sackcloth and ashes. |
| Sackcloth and ashes. |
| They’re never gonna
|
| Understand. |