Текст: Garbage. Butterfly Col.

So you finally got what you wanted
You've achieved your aim by making the walking lame
And when you just can't get any higher
You use your senses to suss out this week's climber
And the small fame that you've acquired
Has brought you into cult status
But to me you're still a collector

There's tarts and whores but you're much more
You're a different kind because you want their minds
And you just don't care 'cause you've got no brain
It's just that face on your pillowcase that thrills you

And you've started looking much older
And your fashion sense is second rate like your perfume
But to you in your own little dream world
You're still the queen of the butterfly collectors

You carry on 'cause it's all you know
You can't light a fire, you can't cook or sew
You get from day to day by filling your head

But you surely must know the thrill between your legs has worn off

And I don't care about morals
Because the world's insane and we're all to blame anyway
And I don't feel any sorrow
Towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors

There's tarts and whores but you're much more
You're a different kind 'cause you want their minds
And you just don't care 'cause you've got no brains
It's just a face on your pillowcase that thrills you

You carry on because it's all you know
You can't light a fire, you can't cook or sew
You get from day to day be filling your head
But you surely must know the thrill between your legs has worn off

And I don't feel any sorrow towards the kings and queens of the butterfly collectors