Оригинален текст
Youre too vain, youre insane
You think the world will stop turning
Cause you aint around
Blind eyes, cheap lines
You got the whole band playing
But you dont hear the sound
Your venom pen
Will never poison me
I wont be sticking round that long
Corina, whats this talk of glory
Between the sheets in halls of fame
Corina, just a hard luck story
Bratpack fever
Running through your brain
Your fast cars, rock stars
You were seen at the party
But you werent even there
False name, the same game
Somebodys minding your business
You dont even care
You think its all
Some kind of circus ride
You think that someones
Keeping score