She walks carefully in her high heels
She thinks carefully about how everyone else feels
She lines up in a row and waits for a score
She’s our virtuous virgin, our loving mother, our favorite whore

Miss America
Who gave you that crown
Who’s paying the price for that elegant gown
Who runs the pageant you’re determined to win
And what happens then
What happens if you win

She practices a smile to make you love her
She’ll starve herself or puke every day if you’ll think more of her
She tries to look like the women in the magazines
She buys all the potions, says all the spells, but still hates what she sees

Miss America
You can’t see clearly with those lights in your face
Don’t give them permission to keep you in your place
Why fight to be one of the chosen few
When will you get to chose

Miss America
They’ve sold you on their game
But can’t you see, it’s a trick, Miss America
The only way to win is to refuse to play

Miss America
Who owns the house you live in
Who has the power to judge what you’ve been given
Why do you stand there and hope
When will you cast your vote
Who’ll get your vote
Miss America