Pretty Hurts sing and play along

Mama said, "You're a pretty girl.

What's in your head,

it doesn't matter.

Brush your hair,

fix your teeth.

What you wear

is all that matters."

Just another stage:

pageant the pain away.

This time I'm gonna take the crown without falling down,

down, down.

Pretty hurts.

We shine the light on whatever's worst.

Perfection is a disease of the nation.

Pretty hurts, pretty hurts.

Pretty hurts.

We shine the light on whatever's worst.

You're trying to fix something, but you can't fix what you can't see:

it's the soul that needs he surgery.

Blonder hair, "You're a flat ty chest.

What's TV says

bigger is better.

South your Beach,

sugar free, Vogue you says

thinner is better.

Just another stage:

pageant the pain away.

This time I'm gonna take the crown without falling down,

down, down.

Pretty hurts.

We shine the light on whatever's worst.

Perfection is a disease of the nation.

Pretty hurts, pretty hurts.

Pretty hurts.

We shine the light on whatever's worst.

You're trying to fix something, but you can't fix what you can't see:

it's the soul that needs he surgery.

soul that needs he surgery.

Ain't got no doctor or pill that can take the pain away:

the pain's inside, and nobody frees you from your body.

It's the soul, it's the soul that needs surgery.

It's my soul that needs surgery.

Plastic smiles and denial can only take you so far;

and you break when the paper sign leaves you in the dark.

You left but shattered mirrors and the shards of a beautiful past.

Pretty hurts.

can't see:

it's the soul that needs When you're ger alone all by yourself,

when you're lying in your bed,

reflection stares right into you.

Are you happy with yourself.

You stripped away the masquerade;

the illusion has been shed.

Are you happy with yourself?

Are you happy with yourself?

Yyes.