Hello all you bitches,
In your glossy magazines...
I Hope you enjoyed your short lived little fantasies...
You're the entertainment, for the feeble minded waifs,
Some of you are theatre and some are just a face
Stoplights, flashbulbs, fist fights… and you're immortalized, immortalized
CHORUS:
Shout it out,
...You're on top of the world
Let it out,
...You're a beautiful girl
Block it out,
...And you're all you've been fed
Drown it out,
...Make sure that it's dead
Well I listen every day,
To some beats I do not need,
Tired rhymes and rhetoric anomalies... oh woe is me
And I don't give a rat's ass, if they didn't learn the trade,
Learn to write a fucking song not a rhythm in tirade...
(It's) borrowed,
(Just) icons,
(All) image… and here's your clothing line, your clothing line,
CHORUS:
Shout it out,
...You're the next biggest thing
Let it out,
...But you can't really sing
Block it out,
...And you're all you've been fed
Drown it out,
...Make sure that it's dead
Yeah well you're bigger than real life,
You've got everything you don't need and it's, it's just not enough...
You're a celebrated star,
But can't seem to sing or act your way out of a, out of a wet paper bag...
CHORUS:
Shout it out,
...You're on top of the world
Let it out,
...You're a beautiful girl
Block it out,
...And you're all you've been fed
Drown it out,
...Make sure that it's dead, dead, dead and gone
Shout it out,
...You're the next biggest thing
Let it out,
...But you really really can't sing
Block it out,
...And you're all that you've been fed
Drown it out,
...Make sure that it's dead dead and gone, way gone
You're really that good,
...You're that good
