| Daddy bought you like a toy
|
| Mama taught you to be coy
|
| Make your bed down in the dirt
|
| Bow your head, lift your skirt
|
| From your lips to my ears
|
| All down through your tender ears
|
| A poor little rich girl, junk food heiress
|
| Born in forth world, raised in Paris
|
| Well, listen honey, screwed the money, I want you
|
| Something changed you, laid you low
|
| your senses, made you slow
|
| Wrote your name down in the book
|
| State the claim on how do you look
|
| I can’t blame you if you think that
|
| Tie you to the kitchen sink
|
| Drain your pockets, drink your blood
|
| Drag you through the muck and mud
|
| Must be said, you made your bed but I want you
|
| It’s the way your hair falls in your face
|
| And the way you move from place to place
|
| It’s the way you wear your curse
|
| As if there could be something worse than
|
| Trapped inside a glass house dying
|
| Waiting for the bricks to fly
|
| Oh my, my, my
|
| So he left you with no God
|
| Trapped behind that cracked facade
|
| Had for a woman have a heart
|
| Not too down, not too smart
|
| I will have once something clicks
|
| Eat you like a ton of bricks
|
| And circumstances been to break you
|
| Why, oh why would God forsake you?
|
| Vis-a-vis, him or me, I want you
|
| baby, I don’t care, I want you |