She had them scrape back lines on her face that spoke of her age and of the time passing by.
And does she kiss with those collagen lips? And when she smiles does her face fall to bits?
She sees her picture in the mirror but the face is not hers, she’s looking like her mother looked.
Staples behind her ears are holding back the years, you know she’s going to get there soon.
Now she paints eyebrows where her eyebrows used to grow. Browsing magazines, eyeing silicone.
CHORUS:
Now her face looks like an egg, Doreen doesn’t know what to do about it.
Now she looks just like an egg and she’s building a skin so she can hide behind it.
She’s getting older, over her shoulder are the creepy-crawlies of her mortality.
She’s lying in the grave, but she looks half her age! A surge of surgeons did a dance on her face.
She sees her picture in the mirror but the face is not hers, she frightens everyone she meets.
Her grandchildren are scared. What’s that thing standing there? A stranger but it has no sweets.
And she paints eyebrows where her eyebrows used to grow. Browsing magazines, eyeing silicone.
CHORUS
And she won’t go out, she’s an expressionless Cubist portrait.
When turned inside out, you can still see liver spots on her brain.
CHORUS
Here I am again, I’m on my own again with you. We’re watching episodes 4,5,6 again but we’ll pretend there’s only two.
And you know that when we’re watching, we’re not talking. You say “I love you,” I say “I love you” but I don’t know that it means a lot to you.
CHORUS:
And it means nothing in my Millenium Falcon, I can go anywhere that I want to go. And I’m back in school, trying to keep all my clothes on.
But that old familiar feeling that comes when films are ending, unstoppably descending back down to Earth again.
I’ve not got anything to do, I’m frantically searching for a film or comic book so I don’t have to look at you.
And you know that when you’re talking, I’m not listening. You say “I love you,” I smile politely and think of people that I could be talking to.
CHORUS
And that old familiar feeling that comes when it’s all ending, unstoppably descending down to a place I don’t want to go.
CHORUS
And that old familiar feeling that comes with over-thinking. Can’t stop myself descending down, but I’d do anything to stop myself from feeling like this.
I’m a waste of time. A back without a spine. Just a waste of time. A body without a mind.
Sometimes I wish that I was a cartoon walking round in a cartoon room, singing songs for the other cartoons making money out of you.
I’d write a book that was all about me. Tales from my life for you to read. A fictional biography for making money.
Take a leaf out of my book and when it’s took, take a chapter or two. You can learn from my life experiences, even though they’re not true.
CHORUS:
It’s an in-joke that I’m having with myself, raise a glass and drink to my health.
Sincerely, I apologise if I can’t look you in the eyes; it’s not easy getting comfy when you’re sitting on a goldmine.
Or maybe I could make a film instead; about the life that I could have led, about my life and philosophy for making money
Take a moment from my life and make it right, make it sunny and new. You can learn from my life experiences, even though they never happened.
CHORUS
(It’s not easy) (Please believe me)
It’s not easy getting comfy when you’re sitting on a goldmine, or keeping poker-face when you’re shuffling a pack of lies. I don’t know who this life belongs to but it isn’t mine.
I’d like to be an astronaut, but I’m not sure if I’ve got the qualifications or the physical fitness I need.
I’d like to be falling asleep in zero gravity, I’d like to be drifting off to sleep (counting robotic sheep in my dreams)
Don’t want to be a robot arm in a factory, I’d rather be working with animals.
I’d like to be an astronaut, way up in space. I’ve often thought of the Earth as smaller than my thumb,
I’ve often thought of myself as being bigger than everyone.
I’d like to perform brain surgery. “Scalpel please,” the nurse turns to me. Her heart in her mouth, a perfect brain in a jar.
Can you see me on your TV? Photogenically, I’ll be performing medical miracles.
I’d like to see the apocalypse, cryogenically my nemesis is waiting for me.
I’d like to lead a robot army, fulfill my destiny. I’ll be fighting with animals. Robotic animals. (Cyber voles)
Every button I press in my elevator takes me to the same floor.
And the woman I adore is living in the lift. Living on the fourth floor, a face like a monkey’s fist.
Anyone I confront in the foyer of the building changes the subject to one that I hate, or morphs into an animal with human characteristics and leaves in the manner their new form facilitates. I’m going up!
There’s a fire in the lift so I have to use the stairs, but the stairs aren’t really there so I have to use the lift.
But every button I press in my elevator takes me to the same floor.
I’ll write to her but she won’t know.
You know you need me, cos I’m the ultimate accessory. I go with the furniture, I’m see-through.
You don’t need to know me, cos I’m a non-entity. I go with the photoshoot, I’m see-through.
BRIDGE:
And there are no strings on my guitar, no speakers in my amplifier.
You want to fuck me, I’ve got tight-fitting trousers. You can just make out my genitals.
You don’t fucking want me, but I’ll be waiting here for hours. You can just take out my genitals, they’re see-through.
BRIDGE
CHORUS:
And I’m stretched tight like an over-tight… and I will be gone overnight.
You’d love to have me and you can have me any way you want me. I know you can see right through me
????????????????
BRIDGE
CHORUS
Cut me, I bleed. I think I bleed. I might not bleed.
Photoshop me; washboard abs, perfect smile
Two times wider than my face facts and leave me to fall into pieces
Scratch through the surface, I’m see-through.
No power supply to my Casio SK5, so the memory’s died
CHORUS
And I’m stretched tight like an over-tight (elastic band) and I will be gone overnight
