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You fold your arms, roll your eyes, and spin your sports car keys |
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You sold a sleazy story to a gossip magazine |
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You throw your toys out of the pram to try and make a scene |
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You carelessly indulge in cosmetic surgery |
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You'd do anything just to be seen |
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Anything that gets you on a screen |
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You really would go to any extreme |
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There's no such thing as bad publicity |
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You are the bearer of bad news |
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You were the boy in the 'pick teams' that no-one would choose |
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Left standing in line |
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Better luck next time |
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Now you work in the wrong field |
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You watch your superiors to tread on their heals |
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You may slip through the crack |
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But what goes around must come back |
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Your head is like a lost balloon, drifting through the clouds |
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I'm waiting for the day it shrivels up and hits the ground |
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My ears are like satellites, I'm lucky as can be |
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Life is so convenient when you hear things digitally |
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You'd do anything just to be seen |
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Anything that gets you on a screen |
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You really would go to any extreme |
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There's no such thing as bad publicity |
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You are the bearer of bad news |
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You are a mild irritation like a stone in my shoe |
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You are the feeling of gloom |
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That empties the room |
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Now you take undeserved praise |
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You laugh and kiss money as you watch your pay raise |
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You are a true parasite |
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And you're the bane of my life |