And there's no clothes I can buy
Make me feel like myself
She said
So I put on clothes
To make me look feel like someone else
Instead
As a matter of fact I don't like to be seen
Cause I'm not satisfied with myself She said
You better hit her
She said She said She said She said
She's dead
There no perfume I can buy
Make me smell like myself
So I put on perfume
To make me smell like someone else
In bed
And as a matter of fact
I don't like to be scented
I don't like to smell myself
She Said
You better hit her
She said, she said, she said.
She sad She staid
But I'm not afraid
Of being more than pretty
While your getting paid
To wind yourselves up untill you drop
Yeah.
There no one I can talk to like
I talk to myself
She said
So I play games to make them
Think I'm someone else
It's inbred
As a matter of fact
I don't like to be seen
Cause I'm not satisfied
With myself She said
You better hit her
I'm not afraid
Of being more than pretty
While your getting paid
To wind yourselves up untill you drop
She said, she said, she said.
She's dead, she's dead she's sad she's played
It's ingrained she's stained she's played she's trade
I've ****ed up inside my own head and what the **** am doing
In a place like this I know exactry why I'm here ---- me
Writer(s): Crispin Macmichael Sandys Hunt
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