This seems to me like yet another song about a handler. What a tragic theme. I know they sent me an assortment of attractive guys made to order to suit my own specific preferences. Sometimes I was even sent musicians. An astrologer. The list goes on. One was even supposedly named Napoleon. He even seemed to be running a charity project vindicating The Emperor. Where did young Napoleon go after I didn’t chomp on that bait? Ridiculous. They even made sites to flatter my ego while they all pretend I’m invisible. I was sued twice for posting the truth on the internet. Chicanery, scams and trickery. Once they start they don’t let up. Their stye can be deciphered here.
Handlers are enemies in disguise and an organization that deploys them has the worst interests of the public at heart.
"Pretty Words" Lyrics
I ask you nicely
Get my face slapped under wraps
What's going on precisely
Is there something wrong perhaps?
Surprise, surprise (surprise, surprise)
It's more like a booby trap than a booby prize
Civil disobedience from a soldier with a dirty rifle
You're loosening all the screws that hold the hinges of my life
Fat cats and army brats
Hep cats and dog tags pawing over girly mags
[Chorus:]
Pretty words don't mean much anymore
I don't mean to be mean much anymore
All I see are snapshots, big shots, tender spots
(1) mug shots, machine slots
(2) machine slots, mug shots
Till you don't know what's what
You don't know what you got
Curious women running after curious men
Curiosity didn't kill the cat
It was a poisoned pen
But there's not much choice (it's Hobson's choice)
Between a cruel mouth and a jealous voice
Got back to London
Picked a paper from the mat
No words of consolation
Just cartoons and chitter chatter
Well well, fancy that
Millions murdered for a kiss me quick hat
No backbone, blood and guts
Better keep your big mouth shut
[Chorus]