Stuff comes down from the golden triangle on ferries from Denmark to helsingborg
The band strikes up but they're out of time on synthesiser and washboard
wooden tulips grow by the roadside made in a factory in jonjoping
fake glass baubles hang in the station just like the passenger's imitation
then it hits you she was just the dregs all you wanna do now is break her legs
kick that brunette into a pond replace her with a
platinum blonde, platinum blonde, platinum blonde, platinum blonde
There's a secret world that you cannot enter it's in the center of the darkest night
she's waiting there with a set of works a Swedish passport and something white
she walks past but you can't form a whistle even her lips look artificial
you wanna follow her but you can't swallow her act it seems so superficial
now you've shed the old one like a worn out shoe
It was all your fault but you blame her too
you know its phoney but at least it's new and it comes from a bottle like
platinum blonde, platinum blonde, platinum blonde, platinum blonde
And in your heart there's a new addiction another friction that you can't resolve
she seemed alive but she is just a cipher an imaginary postcard that just dissolved
endless sunsets glow in the distance painted by picasso's assistants
Perfect people travel in volvos into the sunsets into the distance
you're just a passenger she's not a ticket a foreign stamp you've got to lick it
put it in the mail box put it in the failbox
you never seem to learn from the school of hard knocks
then she walks past and laughs at the pond
you can't break a heart that doesn't respond, like
platinum blonde, platinum blonde, platinum blonde, platinum blonde
