She was always more runaway than runway from the start.
She had a backbite to bite back a tongue that tied itself in knots.
No, she's not the kind of girl you blink through.
The situation is slowly turning black and blue.
No, she's just a wind-up toy for basic boys,
And she's got a plastic kind of joy.

You don't know what it takes to make her drop,
To prop her up like a rag doll and make her dance.
She may be just another trend,
But she is more of a mannequin than you'll ever be.

You were finally so happy to see your life in 3-D,
But then you realized that's the view that everyone else sees.
You get crossed-eyed from watching all the girls you like,
And that fruit punch isn't good unless it's spiked.
You'll undo every single stitch she's got,
But she's still there among the cotton stuffing.

You don't know what it takes to make her drop,
To prop her up like a rag doll and make her dance.
She may be just another trend,
But she is more of a mannequin than you'll ever be.