Snazzy clothing with all the labels,
put on, showing at all the right places.
Hair crimpted, washed with $30 shampoo,
and ignore all the other faces.

This color's in, it's hot for the season,
gotta get the matching set.
Your car has an emergancy make-up kit,
so you don't have to fret.

Teen Queen, big scene,
the world is your oyster.
Blonde Girl, Bombshell,
born with a tiara in your hand.

Take all the pills, it's so popular,
birth control, dieting, acid trip.
Your boyfriend's jacket letters can spell a word,
because of you, he's a hit.

Got magazine subscriptions up the wazoo,
it'd help if you read anything at all.
The perfect eyeliner, the right perfume,
and all the popluar actresses on your wall.

Teen Queen, big scene,
your life is under control.
Blonde Girl, Bombshell,
born given a silver platter.

Now you're two and twenty, where are you?
two kids and a dead-beat dad.
His jake-and-coke breakfasts take their toll,
doesn't this get you mad?

Living on welfare, watching soap operas,
you're just a stay-at-home slave.
Your figure's hell, you look like trash,
and you'll be that to your grave.

Teen Mom, early start,
your life has gone to hell.
No money, no job,
and you just got knocked up again.

02/24/2005

Posted on 02/25/2005
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