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
so good night little school boy, you'd better learn some self control did you mess up your hairstyle, pour scorn in your begging bowl
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
