trust fund baby

I know that we shouldn’t approve
of the smoke-filled places you go
But if i dress you up in silk and frills
then no one has to know

I might let you sleep in my bed
if you promise not to make a sound
Untangling the knots in your hair
with the rusted knife you found

Bail you out from wherever you need
because my parents gave me enough
And if you live softly for a long time
then you can learn to like it rough

What will i do when life runs dry?
i’ll make a living looking pretty
Because the possessions i call mine
are worth more than this whole city

You hate that you’re just fun
an excuse to live a different way
But you’ll never leave the money i have
and the fucked up life i made