DAMAGE CONTROL

She’s got a heart full of crazy people
She’s clearly not amused
Catching colds and missing trains
Is all she seems to do
The tragic bravados, the bourgeois staccato
Wonder why they bother at all
They’re all talking in headlines but dress out of style
“Get a life and then give me a call”

Every ghetto gladiator, every little Pierrot
Looking like a drag magician in another wasted show
There’s a beggar on each corner, a stench in the air
Life’s a song that’s dedicated to the lovers at Tiananmen Square

So shit in your hat and place your head on a chair
This journey’s clearly not going anywhere
Turn on the tv, the lie of the land
A string quartet playing in a refugee camp
Start with a kiss and soon you’ll need vaseline
The damage control of any tangerine dream
Play hard to get, you’ll end on the run
‘Cause everyone’s bored with all this soft-porn

Confetti-covered, all animated
Party eyes that never close
A wave of raving faces with sparkling smiles
They look the same wherever she goes
The white shirts and big lips
All drowning in honey
Smacking tongues while they’re shaking their heads
Little socialites with portable roots
In her eyes they’d be better off dead

But the shops and the markets
The wild consumer craze
Seem to bind it all together and somehow make their day
All these harlequin girls with swimming pool eyes
If nothing else matters
They really took advantage of their time