You're a walking polaroid picture
Perfect at every turn
But what they don't know about you
The pictures slowly burn away

You fall further with each step
Into their waiting trap
They haunt you in your (im?)perfect dreams
As the camera shutters snap

And the crowds clap
When they see your face
The crowds clap
The reporters give chase
And there's nothing you can do

In the shadows your dreams come alive
Slowly they take you
To a place too dark, too deep
There they release you

Some part of you knows you're gone
The good part is over
The rest of you just carries on
Throw salt over your shoulder
And knock on wood

And here
In the dark
Is where
The spark
Burns out