Just look at that place,
it's longer than a mile
Livin' on stolen kisses
and borrowed time
That smile is painted on,
all wrapped up on, wrapped on
Makin' his mind up where to wind up
Well, just look at this place,
it's late here all the time
It's a shrine dedicated to singin'
and women and wine
She's sufferin' this for you
And all the other monkeys
livin' in the zoo
How could she clean up
livin' on peanuts?
But there's a saint beneath the paint
A talk without a heart is what she ain't
Make no mistake,
she can't face the same beneath the fame
Just look at that face,
cast itself way back when
It's twelve o 'clock
and all is hell again
That was so psyched to see him
Rockin' around the
Christmas tree
Makin' his mind up with a grind -up
Bus dancers, saints beneath the paint
The talk without a heart
is what she hates
Make no mistake,
she can't trace the symphony
She can't face the symphony
She can't face the symphony of fate
It looks good, kid
That little town flirt ain't be
pushin' up daisies still
That's tough, but she's the only one
who can ever get enough of it
There's a saint beneath the paint
A dark without a heart is what she ain't
Make no mistake,
she can't face the saint beneath the paint
There's a saint beneath the paint
A dark without a heart is what she ain't
Make no mistake,
she can't face the saint beneath
She can't trace the symphony
She can't face the symphony's
defame