Yeah, you look all pretty in bright red shoes,
But who do you fool?
What are you selling, really?
Your music, or your body?
Your body, or your soul?
Your soul, or yourself?
You brag about how you changed from pastor's kid to a pop icon,
Like you changed from jeans to a mini skirt,
But you don't fool me,
With your juicy lyrics and swaying hips
With your black hair and your cherry lips.
I think you fool your eyes, your ears, your hands, your feet
And you think you're having fun,
But we both know you sold that too.
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