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Glass Figurine Lyrics
You've got me sitting on your mantle like a little glass figurine
Why must you be so mean?
Don't you know I've got better things to do
I'm like a mail order product from a housekeeping magazine.
How utterly embarrassing,
well lady I'm not going to dance that dance.
Let the giraffes do it, let the sad clown cry.
Your porcelain kisses are not going to turn me shy.
No, I'm not your little boy,
your rosy-cheeked joy,
though the thought of you makes me sanguine
I'll do anything you want
but I won't be your glass figurine
Let the giraffes do it, let the sad clown cry.
Your porcelain kisses are not going to turn me shy.
No, I'm not your little boy,
your rosy-cheeked joy,
though the thought of you makes me sanguine
I'll do anything you want
but I won't be your glass figurine
I'm like a mail-order product from a housekeeping magazine
I'll do anything you want
but I won't be your glass figurine
Why must you be so mean?
Don't you know I've got better things to do
I'm like a mail order product from a housekeeping magazine.
How utterly embarrassing,
well lady I'm not going to dance that dance.
Let the giraffes do it, let the sad clown cry.
Your porcelain kisses are not going to turn me shy.
your rosy-cheeked joy,
though the thought of you makes me sanguine
I'll do anything you want
but I won't be your glass figurine
Your porcelain kisses are not going to turn me shy.
No, I'm not your little boy,
your rosy-cheeked joy,
though the thought of you makes me sanguine
I'll do anything you want
but I won't be your glass figurine
I'm like a mail-order product from a housekeeping magazine
I'll do anything you want
but I won't be your glass figurine
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This song is beautiful.
I think this is a song to his mother. That he feels his mother doesn't really love him, because he doesn't fit her view of him. He's turned into more of an object for her to be proud of than a real human being.
Christ, I never even thought of that as a possibility. His 2007 version played in Paris is so much more melancholy than the version on Thrills.
My mother passed in November, she was like that. Such an idealist, she wanted me to be more than I could be. Such a damn tragedy when our wishes and our ways seldom cross paths.