To be that good it must be taxin’. No such thing as satisfaction. You’re makin’ things happen while I’m relaxin’. Like a Sunday afternoon. My dad used to tell me I was lazy. I got dance moves like Patrick Swayze. I’m the left over turkey for the world’s mayonnaisey. The star next to the moon. Now I know I’m just here to amuse you. And I don’t mean to abuse you. But if I could just use you one time. Tell me what it’s like. To be the queen of it all. The Neiman Marcus of the Mall. And tell me what it’s like to be the one and only. All American Girl. Now I never had a supernatural feelin’. Not to mention a sexual healin’. But every now and then I get to the kneelin’. To thank him for it all. But you probably got some inside connection. So many numbers that you gotta rolodex them. So much muscle that you never gotta flex them. To catch you when you fall. And I know I’m just here to amuse you. And I don’t mean to confuse you. But if I could just use you one more time. Tell me what it’s like to be the house on the hill. The number one diet pill. And tell me what it’s like to be the one and only. All American Girl. Now I bet you won’t say you get crazy. Or that you don’t shave your legs. When you’re lazy. Or that you’re just like everybody else in the world. You just got lucky that’s all. And I know you’re not here to amuse me. But you sure know how to confuse me. So if I could just ask you once again. To tell me what it’s like to be a star on the rise. A breakfast cereal prize. And tell me what it’s like to be the one and only. All American Girl. The All American Girl. The all amazing crazy girl. Postado por _Alexandre_Udi_