|
She builds her own satellite |
|
From an old rusted chair |
|
She leaves this old world behind |
|
And the things that she cares |
|
Maybe she's gone |
|
But it won't be for long |
|
What do I know? |
|
Maybe she's found |
|
What we all dream about |
|
What do I know? |
|
She's beautiful and wonderful |
|
I can't compare |
|
It's not that fair |
|
She builds a strong alibi |
|
From the future that's here |
|
She needs to know I'm alive |
|
And that I'm flesh and I tear |
|
Maybe she's wrong |
|
But I won't mind my own |
|
What do I know? |
|
And their silicone |
|
With a touch of her soul |
|
What do I know? |
|
She's beautiful and wonderful |
|
I can't compare |
|
It's not that fair |