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...trophy wife... - dead boyfriend lyrics

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mary, don’t you wanna be a wife?
that kind of thing would suit your pretty face
if i croon and wrap you in a bow real nice
would that subtract from the price?
i wanna put you on display
everything except your arms and legs
see, i was born to criticize
objectify, collect your shame
my love won’t hide the emptiness inside your mind
reserved for me

i need someone to own
someone to call a home

i’m starting to grow tired of your tone
the little things, the way you answer the phone
to me you’re like a potted plant
you sit there mindlessly without a thought
and bide your time
perfect the art of pretending you’re fine

i need someone to own
someone to call a home

- dead boyfriend lyrics

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