She was acting pretty, thought she owned the city

Someone should have told her pretty ain't a job

Now she begs for money, no one calls her honey

As she bothers shoppers in the parking lot



Gets her karma with a catch

Forgets superstition by wearing in backwards

Lives under ladders and sleeps with black cats



Some people never change

They just stay the same way



I swear this like a sailor, love is not a favor

I find its just a concept that we live inside

If you can agree with me and Mr. Twain

In matters of opinion our rivals are insane