You are the playwright, the lock tight, that edits your
words
Your character's lacking development in all its worth
You are Donna Reed with a Jackie O. flair
Extra tight bottom with wisps in your hair
Act out your emptiness like you don't care
And all your nights burn deep--

Scream, scream all the things that they did to you
Tore you up like dust
Took, took all the things that they gave to you
Put you out to rust
And you still believe that your God-given need
Is something to hide in your sheets
How can you step back to find where you're at
When the clay in your life is your feet

You are the playwright, the lock tight, that edits your
style
Borrow your voice and your movement from TV awhile
Your wit comes from Rhoda, your hat comes from M*A*S*H
You threw away Linda Day's Partridge-Style pants
Your hair and your make-up look like Adam Ant's, but--
Where are you in there?

Scream, scream all the things that they did to you
Tore you up like dust
Took, took all the things that they gave to you
Put you out to rust
And you still believe that your God-given need
Is something to hide in your sheets
How can you step back to find where you're at
When the clay in your life is your feet

You are the playwright, the lock tight, that edits your
life
Your character has its own roommate, don't call her
your wife
You are independent without any need
The ring on your finger is not wedding rings
It belonged to your mother, but she was bereaved
When your father left for good

Scream, scream all the things that they did to you
Tore you up like dust
Took, took all the things they gave to you
Put you out to rust
And you still believe that your God-given need
Is something to hide in your sheets
How can you step back to find where you're at
When the clay in your life is your feet
How can you step back to find where you're at
When the clay in your life is your feet
...You are the playwright, the lock tight, that edits
your....