You got an Armani suit and some Doc Martins.
You say the weight of the world is on your hands.
You think your face is a rose and your body is a pearl.
(Well, break it in!)
You talk about drugs and you talk about sex
as if you know it all and there's no consequence.
But you don't talk when something goes wrong in your world.

You think you got it right. You think you're out-a-sight. Well, you're wrong.
I'm sorry you can't see that you're just a wannabe. It's too bad, and I'm sad. Woo!

You tell me of life and your activities
as if I wanted to know and it mattered to me.
But, pride is the sin that kills us in the end.
You remind me a lot of someone I know.
His name was Billy McKeester, I think so.
It's just that he was an ass--come to think, I think he's dead.

You think you got it right. You think you're out-a-sight. Well, you're wrong.
I'm sorry you can't see that you have no real authority. It's too bad, you're a fad.