(Alexander/Badlees) Well, I take off my shoes When I walk in her door And try my best to levitate 'Cross her living room floor 'Cause you can't leave tracks When you're on hollowed ground She'll just make you sweep 'em up Like you're being hunted down (Chorus) She's the queen of perfection Everybody knows why She's the queen of perfection And she's soon gonna die She says, "your body is a temple, boy You ought to treat it well But you trash the place and rent it out Like it's some cheap motel" Then she takes away my plate Before I've finished by meal And works on my hygiene Against my will (Chorus) Well, Marie Antoinette, she said, "Let 'em eat cake" While she should have been planning Her own damn escape Now I smile 'cross the table At my lady supreme Knowin' that her coffee's laced With Mr. Clean