Can’t take champagne to the grave 
We all end up 6ft under anyway
It doesn’t matter who you were before
'Cause no one's actually keeping score 

So why is everyone pretending 
That it matters what you’re spending 
What you look like, what you say 
When at the end of the day 

No one makes it out alive 
There’s no point in your pretty lies 
Fuck designer, start a riot 
Perfect's going outta style 

I was never like them 
Sick of hitting my head on that glass ceiling 
Falling in line can be fatal 
I’d rather be a fucking mess than stable 

Why is everyone pretending 
That it matters what you’re wearing 
Who you talk to, who you date 
When at the end of the day

No one makes it out alive 
There’s no point in your pretty lies 
Fuck designer, start a riot 
Perfect's going outta style 

Oh-oh, I don't need no glitter dreams - I'm okay with crooked teeth 
All I need is just to feel like me
Oh-oh, I don't need no glitter dreams - I'm okay with crooked teeth
All I need is just to feel like me

No one makes it out alive 
There’s no point in your pretty lies 
Fuck designer, start a riot
Perfect's going outta style

No one makes it out alive 
There’s no point in your pretty lies 
Fuck designer, start a riot
Perfect's going outta style