Verse 1 You strut specifically across the high street floor, Draped in cyan silk you bought from a designer store. That double-G motif implies you’ve got some taste, But on your shivering frame, it’s just a tragic waste. Chorus Oh, my sapphire pretender, playing it so cool, Wrapped in Italian threads, acting the absolute fool. You paid a fortune just to look that cheap, A wolf in cashmere clothing? No, darling, just a sheep. Verse 2 The London drizzle soaks that fabric right to the bone, You’re scrolling anxiously upon your cracked iPhone. A velvet collar turned up high to hide your chin, Trying to mask the hollow loneliness within. 3 Go sip your lager while the locals start to glare, Not at your elegance, but at your vacant stare. The label says distinct, exclusive, and refined, Shame it couldn't fix the dullness of your mind. So blue. So borrowed. So... you. So borrowed. So... you.
