A pair of red high heels, trophy of the day
An arm and a leg, that’s no price to pay
You place them tenderly on your dinner table
But, oh how it sticks to the sole, that label

People, get ready to know you who you are and what you’ve been
Oh, why do they put labels on everything?

You scratch and scathe and still can’t get it off
That label, it sticks like a long-gone love
Like the smoldering fire of political affairs
Like the trauma of a soldier’s nightmares

You buy a glass vase, and what’s on the underside
A sticker, a price tag, you cry wide-eyed
And this is what you are and what you’ll always be worth
From birth to earth, from birth to earth