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Paint a pretty picture on the ceiling
sealing seven thousand years inside a box.
Pandora checks her make-up, sighs with feeling
feeling like the age-old keeper of the locks.
I seem to feel there's something I've been skipping
skipping down the road you're helping now to pave.
You dance around the Devil in the morning
mourning for the souls you were too late to save.
I say! You're looking fine today!
But then again, what else is new?
Things seem always to go your way
and I'm so happy for you!
Children looking up and they are idolizing
all the pretty lies that you can tell.
You seem to have a way with words
and thoughts and music, motion pictures
anything with half a chance to sell.
I say! You're looking fine today!
But then again, what else is new?
You seem to've gotten your own way
and I'm so happy for you!
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Focal point of all the world's attention
tension forming in the furrow of your brow.
I'll lavish you with frankincense and paparazzi
hotsy-totsy for a taste of what you're up to now.
Confused as to the cosmic consequences of this whole endeavor
thankful for the letter of the law
I'll place my faith and critical resistance in the non-existent
line which no one's wise enough to draw.
I say! You're looking fine today!
But then again, what else is new?
Things seem always to go your way
and I'm so happy for you!
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