You’re too vain, you’re insaneYou think the world will stop turning¡®cause you ain’t aroundBlind eyes, cheap linesYou got the whole band playingBut you don’t hear the soundYour venom penWill never poison meI won’t be sticking round that longCorina, what’s this talk of gloryBetween the sheets in halls of fameCorina, just a hard luck storyBratpack feverRunning through your brainYour fast cars, rock starsYou were seen at the partyBut you weren’t even thereFalse name, the same gameSomebody’s minding your businessYou don’t even careYou think it’s allSome kind of circus rideYou think that someone’sKeeping score
