I can't lie on this bed anymore it burns my skin

You can take the truthful things you've said to me

And put them on the head of a pin



Poor Napoleon



You always look so disappointed when I take my stockings off

Don't you know the facts of life, boy

Don't you know what these things cost

She was selling stolen kisses to travelling salesmen and minstrel singers

You put a penny in the slot

She called you her Magic Fingers



Poor Napoleon



I bet she isn't all that's advertised

I bet that isn't all she fakes

Just like that place where they take your spine

And turn it into soapflakes



Bare wires from the socket to the bed where you embraced that girl

Did you ever think there's far too many people in the world?

One day they'll probably make a movie out of all of this

There won't even have to be a murder just a slow dissolving kiss