You sit high with your servants at your feet
Warming over your stone cold tea
Taste sweet wine from the ladies of the street
Who got down on their backs for free
You know them well
They kiss and tell
You live high on your borrowed time
You won�t learn when you�re raking in the highs
Tho, you try to get by unseen
Come your turn, you�ll be mirrored down to size
In the eyes of a cardboard queen
She�ll call your name, I�ll call your game
It�s your go, your private three-ring show
It�s been easy to please
But your old devotees have out grown it
Have you blown it?
You had time �cause you graduated young
Jumped the gun to collect your score
Now you�re miming
Cat Fever�s got your tongue as you run for the back stage door
I guarantee no sympathy
They�ve been told you ain�t dipped in gold
You�ll be stoned in the street, and disowned in the heat of reaction
No satisfaction
Your time is due
No time for you
Borrowed time has run out for you
