Magazine Theory

I hate all my clothes; they’re all falling apart
Does the colour of my shirt match the collar of my heart?
When was the last time you checked your machine?
And I’m wondering will you ever get the message?
Our stars say that we were never meant to be
Maybe we shouldn’t rely on magazine theory
Try as you may, try as I might
We squint our eyes under the red disco light
I’m gonna buy some new clothes
My room I’ll rearrange
But I’d have to be blind to see things haven’t changed
Like the boy and his bags by the side of the road
All the time in the world but nowhere to go