You've never shown a trace of human frailty
No-one could ever catch you on the hop:
Each post-modern take on the action
Would find you already, in principle, totally hot
All self-referential commentary
And a marketing man's sense of talk shop

The sharper the image you cut
The more you seem unreal;
So sharp you could cut yourself
Transparently ideal

Yeah, we all know that hard-boiled look
You cooked it up to face down the stares;
I feel like I'm walking on eggshells around you
As though you're already no longer quite there
You acknowledge your trauma
Your neurosis is stripped and laid bare

The sharper the image you cut the more you disappear;
So sharp you could cut yourself
Somehow this transparency's unclear

All the mirrors in your playroom
They twist your psycho-epidermis into shape
No doubt you emerged in your make-up believing
Quite simply, believing that you'd got it taped
But the vacancy you offered
Is already a Cheshire Cat gape

The sharper the image you cut the more you disappeared;
So sharp you could cut yourself – are you still really here?
And the sharper the image you cut the more you seemed a fake
So sharp you could cut yourself, transparently opaque...
And the sharper the image you cut the less you seemed alive;
So sharp, but this open book's transparently jive

You were so sharp you cut yourself
So sharp you could cut yourself;
You were so sharp you made yourself transparent
And transparently unclear