I can't lie on this bed anymore it burns my skin    You can take the truthful things you've said to me    And put them on the head of a pin    Poor Napoleon       You always look so disappointed when I take my stockings off    Don't you know the facts of life, boy    Don't you know what these things cost    She was selling stolen kisses to travelling salesmen and minstrel singers    You put a penny in the slot    She called you her Magic Fingers       Poor Napoleon       I bet she isn't all that's advertised    I bet that isn't all she fakes    Just like that place where they take your spine    And turn it into soapflakes       so good night little school boy, you'd better learn some self control    did you mess up your hairstyle, pour scorn in your begging bowl       Bare wires from the socket to the bed where you embraced that girl    Did you ever think there's far too many people in the world?    One day they'll probably make a movie out of all of this    There won't even have to be a murder just a slow dissolving kiss