Your big baby-blue eyes have got me in their sights
And Bret Easton Ellis could have written your nights
And that tight turtleneck holds you like a latex glove
For you the boys on Wallstreet felt their own special kind of love
And you in turn held for ransom all the money in the stock machine
And in the back of your mind an idea lurked, "I might just get away clean."
Your eyes never blinked at all as you intoned your bloody theme
And the con was the very best, the best I have ever seen
But I love your psychopathic eyes
And every scene you steal somehow
But the party is over, over for now
And Bret Easton Ellis wrote it with a touch of class
You held aloft in your tiny hand, a vial like a bead of glass
While cameras whirred and clicked, as you subtly moved your ass
The money men were all too happy to give you a free pass
But I love your psychopathic eyes
And every scene you steal somehow
But the party is over, over for now
And Bret Easton Ellis would have written with a bloody knife
And you held aloft in your tiny hand, a vial like a bead of life
While cameras whirred and clicked, as you subtly moved your behind
The money men were all too happy to lose their god-damn minds
But I love your psychopathic eyes
And every scene you steal somehow
But the party is over, over for now