History of Iron Maiden, Pt. 2

I fornicate with the idea that it’s not all futile

Like the birds in the trees with their half charged batteries

I used to cart around the room in my pretty pink frock

The people would love it, oh how they’d flock

But I can’t be that boy anymore

For that’s not me, so there’s the door

But these wicked airwalks won’t fit my feet anymore

What a truly agonising, soul crushing bore

In my head

I’m the best dressed