Well, they've made a Golden Idol of the girl you used to be Hangin' bangles on your branches like a lonely Christmas tree. Yeah, they've dressed you fit for killin' in your thrillin' new disguise Nailin' artificial spangles to the diamonds in your eyes In that golden coach that turns into a bed, You better make it, gal, before you wake up dead. 'Cause they'll paint your burning beauty with a coat of shiny lies And they'll blind you with their wine so you won't even realize 'Til you watch the face you're washing disappearing down the drain And you're staring in your mirror going privately insane And that golden crown they've pushed down on your head You better make it, gal, before you wake up dead. Look around them golden sidewalks that you're walking on today And you'll see that lonely gutter just a careless step away And that altar that they're building you don't even understand 'Cause you're dazzled by the flashing of the daggers in their hands. You'll be dancing in the darkness when their music disappears And the jangle of your chains will be the only sound you hear 'Til your broken body's bleeding on an altar made of stone And you've sacrificed your soul to please a world that's sick and wrong And you never heard a single word I said. Aww, make it, gal, before you wake up dead.