Everyone wants to be part of the scene See themselves pretty in a magazine So when my life did read just like a book Out of corners and cracks they came to look And that's the story from the years that came Everyone wants to be part of the shame What a tragedy, what a glamorous scene Write it in a book or a magazine Open up to read about a murder Look at the pretty lipstick shades And that's just how you met your Frank Sinatra On the paper thin walls of a magazine Picked up and paid for But who knows what you're really bound to be You put the pages on the mirror Another sob story but it will never fill you up just like the way You always hoped it was bound to be Who are you? Dream a dream she looks like Madonna Or find a Jesus of your own Something different, just made for your cover No religion is fit for a magazine Picked up and paid for But who knows what you're really bound to be You put the pages on the mirror (you'll never measure up to that) Another sob story but it will never fill you up just like the way You always hoped it was bound to be Who are you? So you read it in a magazine And I had seen the things I'd never dream Read it in a book, or a magazine