Fashion Vs. Its Customers Songtext

With the shiny rocks, and the whatchacalls

Bake yourself to a preferred pigment



Step out to your pulsating pervert audience

Their erections give you your round of applause



Maybe its me and my lack of common fashion sense

But your commercial fabrics not made of substance

Drowning yourself in the table of contents


Your personality was made by poor foreigners

Your personality was found dead by coroners

Mummify yourself in their arrogant slogans



Take a bow

Do a one-eighty

Show some ass

The curtain falls

With your self-esteem in tow



Revlons fist giving you two black eyes?

Love being embraced, eaten by your thighs

All sedated by a drinking binge

Maybe it's me and my lack of common fashion sense

But your fabric's not made of any substance

Drown yourself in the table of contents