Letras
Can't take champagne to the grave
We all end up six feet under anyway
It doesn't matter who you were before
'Cause no one's actually keeping score
So why is everyone pretending
That it matters what you're spending
What you look like, what you say
When at the end of the day
No one makes it out alive
There's no point in your pretty lies
So drop designer, start a riot
Perfect's going outta style
I was never like them
Sick of hitting my head on that glass ceiling
Falling in line can be fatal
I'd rather be an ugly mess than stable
Why is everyone pretending
That it matters what you're wearing
Who you talk to, who you date
When at the end of the day
No one makes it out alive
There's no point in your pretty lies
So drop designer, start a riot
Perfect's going outta style
I don't need no glitter dreams
I'm okay with crooked teeth
All I need is just to feel like me
Ohh-oh, I don't need no glitter dreams
I'm okay with crooked teeth
All I need is just to feel like me
No one makes it out alive
There's no point in your pretty lies
So drop designer, start a riot
Perfect's going outta style
No one makes it out alive
There's no point in your pretty lies
So drop designer, start a riot
Perfect's going outta style