She flies to Paris, France, I come down in her childhood bed And write the words I'll one day wish that I had never said Now all that I became must die before the forum thread The cursed vultures feed and spread the seeded daily bread And I guess I found out What it's like Oh, I am very young But I am working Working on the glow-up I am the richest girl in every room Mainline to the UE BOOM They ask me Why don't you sing with an English accent? Well, I guess it's too late to change it now In the rural American town fairground I go 'round and I go 'round It's a great wide gulf between intentions and what ground met me I check my phone and make the sound Like "Theme From Failure" performed, but for just you Like the new road built out of Black Country ground I have learned so little from all I lost in 2018 I think she's still waiting there for us, somewhere Underneath what we built to keep the waters clean It's a one-size-fits-all, hardcore, cyber-fetish, early-noughties zine She sells Matcha shots to pay for printing costs and a PR team She's recently enlightened and for some reason, that fazes me It won't give up, too soft to touch and how hard could it really be?