She flies to Paris, France, I come down in her childhood bed
And write the words I'll one day wish that I had never said
Now all that I became must die before the forum thread
The cursed vultures feed and spread the seeded daily bread
And I guess I found out
What it's like
Oh, I am very young
But I am working
Working on the glow-up
I am the richest girl in every room
Mainline to the UE BOOM
They ask me
Why don't you sing with an English accent?
Well, I guess it's too late to change it now
In the rural American town fairground
I go 'round and I go 'round
It's a great wide gulf between intentions and what ground met me
I check my phone and make the sound
Like "Theme From Failure" performed, but for just you
Like the new road built out of Black Country ground
I have learned so little from all I lost in 2018
I think she's still waiting there for us, somewhere
Underneath what we built to keep the waters clean
It's a one-size-fits-all, hardcore, cyber-fetish, early-noughties zine
She sells Matcha shots to pay for printing costs and a PR team
She's recently enlightened and for some reason, that fazes me
It won't give up, too soft to touch and how hard could it really be?
