The Holy Runway
I enter the fashion show to learn about Jesus
Extravagant ornamentation leads me to marble coffee tables
Where the faithful can devour free fair trade coffee
While talking about the latest My Chemical Romance record
Through the mass of humanity I push and shove my way to a cushy seat
Eager to worship
To learn
Before me a sea of ironically mustached hipsters
Hair coiffed like spun gold jeans showing off packages
So tightly they threaten to wipe out the hipster race
Indecent young women flaunting ample cleavage and plastic faces
Music from finely tuned musicians blares behind a light show, distorting the message
But the band looks good with their tattoo sleeves
Abercrombie skinny jeans and five hundred dollar faux
Leather shoes
They make way for the handsome orator
Who, with grandeur and pomposity, speaks of the dangers of lust
And sex while reminding the adoring hipster lackeys
So pretty, so finely manicured, that God looks at the inside
Man on what adorns
The lackeys cheer and clap
Jewelry tinks gently beneath the uproar
As I get up to leave, a sour laugh emerges from my lungs
Laughter bred from a longing for a safe place
To worship and learn
Where no one would care about my fashion, about my tattoo collection, my musical tastes
My bank account
Extravagant ornamentation leads me to marble coffee tables
Where the faithful can devour free fair trade coffee
While talking about the latest My Chemical Romance record
Through the mass of humanity I push and shove my way to a cushy seat
Eager to worship
To learn
Before me a sea of ironically mustached hipsters
Hair coiffed like spun gold jeans showing off packages
So tightly they threaten to wipe out the hipster race
Indecent young women flaunting ample cleavage and plastic faces
Music from finely tuned musicians blares behind a light show, distorting the message
But the band looks good with their tattoo sleeves
Abercrombie skinny jeans and five hundred dollar faux
Leather shoes
They make way for the handsome orator
Who, with grandeur and pomposity, speaks of the dangers of lust
And sex while reminding the adoring hipster lackeys
So pretty, so finely manicured, that God looks at the inside
Man on what adorns
The lackeys cheer and clap
Jewelry tinks gently beneath the uproar
As I get up to leave, a sour laugh emerges from my lungs
Laughter bred from a longing for a safe place
To worship and learn
Where no one would care about my fashion, about my tattoo collection, my musical tastes
My bank account
Credits
Writer(s): The Proper English.
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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