Musica - Bryan Dalton

Mama said, «You're a pretty girl.

What’s in your head, it doesn’t matter

Brush your hair, fix your teeth

What you wear is all that matters.»

Just another stage, pageant the pain away

This time I’m gonna take the crown

Without falling down, down, down

Pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse

Perfection is a disease of a nation, pretty hurts, pretty hurts

Pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse

Trying to fix something but you can’t fix what you can’t see

It’s the soul that needs the surgery

Blonder hair, flat chest

TV says, «Bigger is better.»

South beach, sugar free

Vogue says, «Thinner is better.»

Just another stage, pageant the pain away

This time I’m gonna take the crown

Without falling down, down, down

Pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse

Perfection is a disease of a nation, pretty hurts, pretty hurts (pretty hurts)

Pretty hurts (pretty hurts), shine the light on whatever’s worse

Trying to fix something but you can’t fix what you can’t see

It’s the soul that needs the surgery

Ain’t got no doctor or pill that can take the pain away

The pain’s inside and nobody frees you from your body

It’s the soul, it’s the soul that needs surgery

It’s my soul that needs surgery

Plastic smiles and denial can only take you so far

And you break when the paper sign leaves you in the dark

You left a shattered mirror and the shards of a beautiful girl

Pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse (pretty hurts)

Perfection is a disease of a nation, pretty hurts, pretty hurts

Pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse

Trying to fix something but you can’t fix what you can’t see

It’s the soul that needs the surgery

When you’re alone all by yourself

And you’re lying in your bed

Reflection stares right into you

Are you happy with yourself

Strip away the masquerade

The illusion has been shed

Are you happy with yourself?

Are you happy with yourself?

Yes