| She paints her fingers with a close precision
|
| He starts to notice empty bottles of gin
|
| And takes a moment to assess the sin
|
| She's paid for
|
| A lonely speaker in a conversation
|
| Her words are spinning through his ears again
|
| There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for
|
| Say what you mean
|
| Tell me I'm right
|
| And let the sun rain down on me
|
| Give me a sign
|
| I want to believe
|
| Woah, Mona Lisa,
|
| You're guaranteed to run this town
|
| Woah, Mona Lisa,
|
| I'd pay to see you frown
|
| He senses something, call it desperation
|
| Another dollar, another day
|
| And if she had the proper words to say,
|
| She would tell him
|
| But she'd have nothing left to sell him
|
| Say what you mean
|
| Tell me I'm right
|
| And let the sun rain down on me
|
| Give me a sign
|
| I want to believe
|
| Woah, Mona Lisa,
|
| You're guaranteed to run this town
|
| Woah, Mona Lisa,
|
| I'd pay to see you frown
|
| Mona Lisa, wear me out
|
| Pleased to please Ya
|
| Mona Lisa, wear me out
|
| Say what you mean
|
| Tell me I'm right
|
| And let the sun rain down on me
|
| Give me a sign
|
| I want to believe
|
| Woah, Mona Lisa,
|
| You're guaranteed to run this town
|
| Woah, Mona Lisa,
|
| I'd pay to see you frown
|
| Say what you mean
|
| Tell me I'm right
|
| And let the sun rain down on me
|
| Give me a sign
|
| I want to believe
|
| There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for |