[Verse 1] Walking down the road and its spitting sleet, Dragging fine Italian leather on the concrete. That onyx finish deserves a better stage, Than stomping round here in the frozen rain. [Chorus] Oh, my gilded darling, you’ve got the look all wrong, Singing a melody to a tone-deaf song. Those Gucci soles were not made for the Tube, Wasted on a sucker a clueless dude. [Verse 2] You think you’re Jimmy Nail in ninety-four, But nobody wears those shoes anymore. Oh Gucci rubs against a Primark sock, Checking the time on a knock-off clock. The craftsmanship screams of a Tuscan sun, But you’re just a pretender on a coffee run. [Verse 3] Scuffing the heels on the dirty floor, You aren't the man they were crafted for. Soft leather soles oh what a bore, You're trying to look rich, but we know you’re poor [Outro] (Spoken softly, fading out) So heavy on your feet... Give them to someone worthy. You've got Champagne taste. But lemonade money.
