Crazed Institution

<br>Just a little touch of make-up; just a little touch of bull;<br><br>Just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul;<br><br>You can wear a gold piaget on your semaphore wrist;<br><br>You can dance the old adage with a dapper new twist.<br><br>And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium,<br><br>Live and die upon your cross of platinum.<br><br>Join the crazed institution of the stars.<br><br>Be the man that you think (know) you really are.<br><br>Crawl inside your major triad, curl up and laugh as your agent scores another front page photograph.<br><br>Is it them or is it you throwing dice inside the loo awaiting someone else to pull the chain.<br><br>Well grab the old bog-handle, hold your breath and light a candle.<br><br>Clear your throat and pray for rain to irrigate the corridors that echo in your brain<br><br>Filled with empty nothingness, empty hunger pains.<br><br>And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium,<br><br>Live and die upon your cross of platinum.<br><br>Join the crazed institution of the stars.<br><br>Be the man that you think (know) you really are.