Runway rat race, give me fashion,
give me big house and a white fence.
Oh status give me social status,
oh status if we can afford it.
We're all so pretty aren't we,
a walking cliché ugly runway decay.
We're all so pretty aren't we.
We're so proud of ourselves we wear our egos so well.
In a city this small where everybody looks the same in a city this small what's the point in having names.
We're all victims, image victims.
We're all victims of our own image.
We're all victims and I'm a victim.
Move to the suburbs,new house,nice car no life.
Oh status,now you've got social status.
Oh you've made it in the eyes of the public.
Runway rat race,can't keep up.