THE EVENING GOWN COMPETITION
Written January 28, 2004
Every once in a while, I'll dream up a completely fictional story in my head, and it turns into a song. This is one of those songs, conceived while watching some kind of stupid beauty contest on TV. I imagined one of the non-winners after the competition("losers" is such a harsh word), becoming depressed and addicted to drugs, then making frantic calls to 911 and her mom in her altered state just before committing suicide. The last verse, for you necrophiliacs, makes reference to the good work the folks at your friendly neighborhood funeral home do for people like the victim of our story every day.

"This is nothing that can't be fixed with drugs,"
She muttered plaintively
I think she was trying to give our heartstrings a tug
In fact, it's plain to see
Little Miss Wannabe America
Holes in her veins, she's living out a dream
"Pretty pretty please, I just want to die beautiful"

(Chorus)
When she flies, it's always higher than the last time
(We need your information, stay on the line)
The sun is bigger, and she's starting to go blind
(We need your information, stay on the line)

She calls her other in the middle of the night and cries
"You're never there for me"
Assigning blame to anyone else is a lie
But whatever helps you sleep
Little Miss Helpless Primadonna
Cover up your scars, you're gonna be a star
"Pretty pretty please, I just want to die beautiful"

Chorus

A little touch up here, a little touch up there
And if your habits bleed through, no one will care
A little touch up here, a little touch up there
She was all fucked up, but I love what she's done with her hair...