I can't lie on this bed anymore, it burns my skin
You can take the truthful things you've said to me
And fit them on the head of a pin
Oh, I'm reporting
You always look so disappointed
When I take my stockings out
Don't you know the facts of life, boy?
Don't you know what these things cost?
She was selling stolen kisses
To travel in sales
Gloves
And their minstrel singers
You put a penny in the slot
She called you her magic fingers
Oh, I'm reporting
Oh, I'm reporting
I bet she isn't all that's advertised
I bet that isn't all she fakes
Just like that place where they take your spine
And turn it into some flakes
Just like that place where they take your spine
Barrel eyes from the socket
To the bed where you embrace that girl
Did you ever think
There's far too many people in the world
One day they'll be gone

They'll probably make a movie
Out of all of this
There won't even have to be a murder
Just a slow, dissolving kiss
Oh, I'm reporting
Oh, I'm reporting
Good night, little school boy
You better learn some self-control
Did she mess up your headstand?
What's gone in your head?
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
She's crying




Oh, oh, oh, oh
You better learn some self-control




I can't jump
ina
you