[Verse 1] Her hair is shiny, falls perfectly around her shoulders. Her dress hugs her curves As if made to hold her. Her walk is sexy and sensual, Her face is perfectly made, her waist, an hourglass shape, Her skin the perfect shade. She smiles, she laughs, she’s got everything you wish you had. But her life was built on lies, and there hides a subtle sadness behind her eyes. [Chorus] She’s miss perfect, She’s every man’s dream, she’s the perfect prize; a golden trophy it would seem. But do you really want her life? To be a decoration on the shelf? To be left alone on those cold nights? Standing alone on the mantle? She’s a thing to call beautiful, nothing more than a boast. A thing to admire, among the collectibles. [Verse 2] She’s not inappropriate, she’s not at all like me. Someone who swears and And refuses to be What the world would love, What the world would accept, a spectacle to gauge and judge. I collect swords, she collects make up, I wear jeans and sneakers, she wears Louis Vuitton. [Chorus] She’s miss perfect, She’s every man’s dream, she’s the perfect prize; a golden trophy it would seem. But do you really want her life? To be a decoration on the shelf? To be left alone on those cold nights? Standing alone on the mantle? She’s a thing to call beautiful, nothing more than a boast. A thing to admire, among the collectibles. [Instrumental outro]
