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The Celebutard Chronicles Lyrics by The Faint
The Celebutard Chronicles by The Faint
And I get to read about it every week.
You hear that sucking sound? It's culture going down.
Seaward with the C-words; submerged in shit with dreams to drown.
Baby, don't you want to throw it up now?
Just aim for the bowl and I'll hold back your gown.
This is my favorite ad I got on pay-per-view.
The vacant bitch in the convertible reminds me of you. Oh baby.
I'll watch my fuckin' mouth the day it gets a date with Ashlee Simpson, or stars in ads from TRESemme.
Is it the taste of vomit or the cocaine?
All the flashing lights or trashy magazines?
One thousand sunken eyes? The way she shows her thighs?
The million fucking dollars, the jet-skis, or the guys?
How 'bout those fucking aspirations? Aiming for the vacuous end.
I wanna need that respiration. I wanna get some press for it.0
Press it on. Press it down. it's already up in my face now. Oh baby.
I wanna see my name in lights. And throw up in my purse. And die. Hoo!