Looks for autumn, looks for spring
They're gonna make you look, just like a magazine
Fickle fashion, we are bought and sold
By next season, she leaves you in the cold

And maybe all I want
is nothing you can sell
In pills and magazines
Turn the pages, Pour the water
I can't seem to get enough
Â…like a broken cup

Empty pockets, empty dream
all the promises that spill from the glowing screen
wealth and riches on little plastic cards

Maybe all I want, is nothing you can sell
In pills and magazines,
Turn the pages, pour the water
Cause I can't seem to get enough
like a broken cup

And you can ask, you can spin, or you can weave the lies right in
I've had enough gonna wash my hands clean, of this 21st centuryÂ…

some light reading, stop light ahead
give me something that will last longer than that
story like Shakespeare
was meant to stick around
and sitcom romance just wears me out