I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate
Oh so intricate
I wrote the gospel on giving up
(You look pretty sinking)
But the real bombshells are already sunk
(Prima donnas of the gutter)
At night we're painting your trash gold while you sleep
Crashing not like heaps of car
No, more like p-p-p-parties
-Fall Out Boy /This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race
