Singer Songwriter Paroles

And your brother, he manages bands
And you're keen to down play, but you're quick to betray
With one welt and that wave of your hand

You come from wealth
Yeah, you got wealth
What a bitch, they didn't give you much else

I heard cuts by The Kinks on your speakers
I saw Poe and Artaud on your shelves
While The Last Laugh's first scene on your flat panel screen
Lit Chanel that you've wrapped around yourself
You've got outsider art by an artist you arguably kidnapped to pin on the wall
Your designers have slyly directed the eye down pink lines here and your well lit pawn

You've got taste, you've got taste
What a waste that that's all that you have

Oh, you wrote your thesis on the gospel of Thomas
You shot some reversal film in Angkor Wat Why feel bad? Man, it's nothing you've done

It's all in your hand
It's all in your hand
Like a gun, like a glove, like a grand

And this thing you once said disappeared from my head
In the time that it took to be amazed
And this thing you once did might have dazzled the kids
But the kids once grown up are gonna walk away
And your world is gonna change nothing
And your world is gonna change nothing
And our world is gonna change nothing
And our world is gonna change nothing
And our world is gonna change nothing