All the pretty boys you call
Won't keep you warm at all when winter hits the fall
Hair doth not a lover make
Your gentle lashes shake
Your dainty ankles quake
But oh, I'll be around
When all this fucking fashion brings you down
To pick your pretty heart right off the ground
When they take you on the town
With their designer crowns
They'll only bring you down
And all their cash can't buy you from my arms
Let's play hard triumphs over charms
Let's send these spoiled brats to face the feds and gendarme
Oh, I'll be around
When all this name dropping brings you down
To pick your pretty heart right off the ground
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Thanks to Murty for submitting the lyrics.
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