You got that walk, got that talk, got that swagger, such a glamour. You’re like a real life doll with your hand that falls like Niagara, but that don’t matter ‘cause that don’t change the fact that your heart is black. You can’t tear me down, beat me to the ground, try to block my sunshine, my blue skies with your cloud. And who do you think you are? Yeah, that won’t get your far. You may think you’re pretty but you’ll see that beauty is a fading flower.