Rob Smith Blue Bossanova

You better save a story
For any other fool
Who says you're worth any kind of glory?
Who says I am your tool?

You will never catch me anyways
While you try to scan me with the x-rays
You'll be never my type
Simple as the meaning of my name
Never have no money, have no fame
But it's my only right

Now I'm sending you to
Na, na, na, na, na, na..

I let it go
But only for a while
You have a special secret of tasting like dirt and you shouldn't be Heard
But the jury is ready to judge

And they're sending you to
Na, na, na, na, na, na..