Letras
There’s a party at the gallery tonight
So Veronica is taking off her bra
See her tits right through her T-shirt, it's so tight
She doesn’t latch her overalls
Her makeup's like a baby doll
But she’s fucking up her lipstick
Getting higher than a kite
Bailey's got his vintage cowboy threads
His moleskin notebook clutched within his fist
And he’s coaxing some dumb slacktivist to bed
And when he goes in for a kiss
He makes sure that there’s witnesses
If your romance isn’t witnessed
Then you may as well be dead
And Georgie's coming over with his stash
He’s gonna kiss the girls and make 'em cry
He's got everything you need to itch the scratch
And some other shit you'll wanna try
To get yourself electrified
He’ll get you pentecostal
If you're down to drop the cash
At the gallery Tonight
You go to live the dream
Where all the brightest socialites
All go to see and to be seen
So I’m walking down 14th street killing time
Past the yogis and Siddarthas in the square
And I'm watching all the play-by-plays online
They're getting all their pictures shared
For posing in their underwear
And praying they're the muse
Of some director's new design
I’m hopping out to Bushwick on the L
'Cause someone said I've got to "play the game"
And I got a few ideas I’m trying to sell
But anybody with a name
Is only there to buy cocaine
And find a trendy background
For a picture of themselves
When I arrive the place is a parade
To my surprise there’s something being missed
There wasn’t any pictures in the frames
The exhibition don't exist
It’s only exhibitionists
And you can’t be a work of art
Unless you’re on display
At the gallery tonight
You go to live the dream
Where all the brightest social-lights
All go to see and to be seen
But by 3am Veronica was lost
No proper paparazzi ever showed
"You looking here?” she asked me with a scoff
I dropped my eyes and told her “no"
She raised her hands up to my throat
And shoved me to the wall
Crying “Why the fuck not?"