Runway rat race, give me fashion, give me big house and a white fence. Oh status give me social status, oh status if we can afford it. We're all so pretty aren't we, a walking cliché ugly runway decay. We're all so pretty aren't we. We're so proud of ourselves we wear our egos so well. In a city this small where everybody looks the same in a city this small what's the point in having names. We're all victims, image victims. We're all victims of our own image. We're all victims and I'm a victim. Move to the suburbs,new house,nice car no life. Oh status,now you've got social status. Oh you've made it in the eyes of the public. Runway rat race,can't keep up.