It's all about savoir-faire: first you learn to read,
Then you learn to count, then you understand what's expected of you.
You must also learn to make yourself more beautiful than others,
To be the clone, to be the polystyrene clone of dead-eyed models.
You must also learn to wait for your turn,
The turn of the screwed that's given to you - not that you want to.
In the end you'll learn to enjoy the lame post mortem comfort of a life past.
By the way, you've learned to stroke those odd dreams stolen from mirrors
As you've learned to love the man you still loathed and that you hate even more now. And if you don't follow the rules that have been soft-spoken to you...
On your way to glory, to fame and suck-cess
You'll see that the medal you've been yearning
For turns to a one-sided coin once you remove the blue-knotted package.
It's not that you dig dough when you bump into the set,
Set around the scales that gives you the weight of your own inflated image...
What you wish to feed your sad audience feeds your own madness.
But you gotta know it does never gonna be enough for them.
They will never stop to give an everlasting love to any golden calf
Whether it be you or any other girl
Considering she sold better than you did her body and name to the illusions she serves.
You're not less a public figure than the anonymous voice-over
In the silencio theater of your angst-ridden life.
It's all about savoir-faire:
First you learn to read, then you learn to count,
Then you understand what's expected of you.