|
The Butterfly Collector |
|
Noel Gallagher |
|
The Dreams We Have As Children |
|
So you finally got what you wanted |
|
You've achieved your aim by making me walk in line |
|
And when you just can't get any higher |
|
You use your senses to suss out this week's climber |
|
And the small fame that you've acquired |
|
Has brought you into cult status |
|
But to me you're still a collector |
|
There's tarts and whores but you're much more |
|
You're a different kind cause you want their minds |
|
And you just don't care cause you've got no pride |
|
It's just a face on your pillowcase |
|
That thrills you |
|
And you started looking much older |
|
And your fashion sense is second rate like your perfume |
|
But to you in your little dream world |
|
You're still the queen of the butterfly collectors |
|
As you carry on cause it's all you know |
|
You can't light a fire |
|
You can't cook or sew |
|
You get from day to day by filling your head |
|
But surely you must know the appeal between your legs |
|
Has worn off |
|
And I don't care about morals |
|
Cause the world's insane and we'e all to blame anyway |
|
And I don't feel any sorrow |
|
Towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors |
|
There's tarts and whores but you're much more |
|
You're a different kind cause you want their minds |
|
And you just don't care cause you've got no pride |
|
It's just a face on your pillowcase |
|
That thrills you |
|
As you carry on cause it's all you know |
|
You can't light a fire |
|
You can't cook or sew |
|
You get from day to day by filling your head |
|
But surely you must know the appeal between your legs |
|
Has worn off |
|
And I don't feel any sorrow |
|
Towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors |