Panic! At The Disco - The Ballad of Mona Lisa

She paints her fingers with a close precision He starts to notice empty bottles of gin And takes a moment to assess the sin she’s paid for... A lonely speaker in a conversation Her words are swimming through his ears again There’s nothing wrong with just taste of what you paid for Say what you mean tell me im right and let the sun rain down on me give me a sign I wanna believe Whoa Mona Lisa, you’re guaranteed to run this town Whoa Mona Lisa I’d pay to see you frown He sense something call it desperation an