Claws Tracking

You could feel, a lot of doubt On the runway, and in her murder walk, you could tell Maybe it's how she fell When she saw you, maybe it's how she fell Like some bright orange pumps It was the murder mystery she didn't want She put her claws deep in your arm and It made the tracks go all red Pull yourself together, hon. Or heaven's just in your head. When the bulbs had all broke and hit the ground There was hardly any sound, yeah yeah yeah yeah Then you see a lot of doubt... and then they knew All along it was you. It's too late now Cause breaking up's hard to do