Everyone wants to be part of the sceneSee themselves pretty in a magazineSo when my life didn't reach a snikeableOut of corners and cracksThey came alongAnd that's the story from the years that cameEveryone wants to be part of the shameWhat a tragedy, what a glamorous sceneWrite it in a book or a magazineA magazineA magazineOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOpen up to read about a murderLook at the pretty lipstick shadesAnd that's just how you made your Frank SinatraOn the paper-thin walls of a magazineYou picked up and paid for, yeahBut who knows what you're really bound to beYou put the pages on your mirrorAnother sob story, yeahBut it will never fill you upJust like the way you always hoped about to beOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohDream a dream she looks like MadonnaOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOr find a Jesus of your ownOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOr something different just made for your coverOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohNo religion is fit for a magazineYou picked up and paid for, yeahBut who knows what you're really bound to beYou put the pages on your mirrorAnother sob story, yeahBut it will never fill you upJust like the way you always hoped about to beOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohSo you read it in a magazineAnd I had seen the things I'd never dreamedRead it in a book or a magazineA magazineA magazineOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, oh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohOoh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oohI'll see you next time.