it's like a makerover when the filming's
over and she doesn't know how to fix it
so that it'll stay and she can't figure
out how to tease out her hair that way
herself. and when she wakes up all the
make-up has rubbed away and she
doesn't know how to find ger face. it
was only for one single day that you
looked so beautiful, baby. now your
cheekes have gone pale, and you roots
dark gray. and though they nod as they
notice you're nice, baby, nobody's
noticing twice. dim thelights as your
memory of paradise fades. i'm like an
architect who cashed his check, but he
doesn't let on that it's the last one he'll
get. though he knoew thefunds has
run dry, he wants to have fun for one
final night staring out at a skyline that
he'll never change. they're saying
"though we like all things that you've
made notice no one remembers your
name as you float though time feel
you powers decline day by day.
you're like a convert who goes back to
work when he can't retrieve how the
clarity actually felt. when his co-
workers ask hime the words won't come
out. and in three weeks his new leaf
has rubbed away and it feels just like an
average day; facing walls talking into
the phone, sitting dumbly in curch all
alone picking back up the magazines
he'd thrown away. well convert, that
you got wispered into you ear you
forgot once that god disappered and
that life-changing day, you just felt it
fade, but you know, it's got to fade
you know it's got to fade" and falling
down on the couch he says, "it's
perfectly that way"