Claws Tracking

You could feel, a lot of doubt

On the runway, and in her murder walk, you could tell

Maybe it's how she fell

When she saw you, maybe it's how she fell

Like some bright orange pumps

It was the murder mystery she didn't want

She put her claws deep in your arm and

It made the tracks go all red

Pull yourself together, hon.

Or heaven's just in your head.

When the bulbs had all broke and hit the ground

There was hardly any sound, yeah yeah yeah yeah

Then you see a lot of doubt... and then they knew

All along it was you.

It's too late now

Cause breaking up's hard to do