Along her vain parade
Along her veins
All of seventeen, eyes a purple green
Treated like a queen, she was on borrowed self-esteem
She would do her dance, a painful masquerade
Spinning you into her web along her vain parade
In her uniform of studded brass and steel
Kissing napkin, lipstick stains, and smearing sincerity
Along her vain parade
Along her veins
Hey
Whoa-la-la-la-hey
Time crept up on her, she’s in early gray
Her reflection looks concerned as flowers hit her grave
Grave, grave
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