(The) Internet Killed The Video Star

Burn the instructions or plague the inventor?

Quick, easy, and painless

I'm a careless romantic

Wandering the streets

Luring strangers in the dark

If they follow in my footsteps

Then I'll love them all blind

If you want to make a scene

Then you've gotta make a scene

I'll put my hands on you

You put your hands on me

If you want to make a scene

I wasn't looking for trouble

But trouble found me

You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch.

I caught you staring it's not your fault

I killed the lights 'cause I saw it all

I caught you staring it's not your fault

I kissed your lips but not for too long

Tick tock, tick tock;

the hour is up

Told to be anxious

You're a bit out of line

Sew it up like every other time

Un-amused at the table by the bedroom

They're all mine

If you want to make a scene

Then you've gotta make a scene

You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch

You put your hands on me

I'll put my hands on you

You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch

Sew it up like every other time

So in love like every other time

The needle and thread make me shiver

The red on your hands spells out martyr

(I caught you staring it's not your fault)

I killed the lights 'cause I saw it all

(I caught you staring it's not your fault)

I swear to God I watched you fall

Your perfect picture left its mark

I kissed your lips but not for too long