Audrey Macy isn’t lazy, she just never triesnJust like any trust fund baby, hard to pacifynYou could give the world to her,nshe’d ask you for the skynIt’s never quite enoughnShe keeps her bedroom messy,nbut it’s not without its charmnHer clock is underneath the rugnto muffle the alarmnShe wakes up when she pleases,nbut she still finds time to yawnnIt’s never quite enoughnAnd the name sounds familiarnAnd the face you know all too wellnDon’t believe all that you readnI’ve seen the way she rollsnIt’s absolutely, positively, hell (la-la-la-la…)nShe spent the ’90s in the rollnof tabloid millionairenBut truth be told, she’s gotten old,nnow no one seems to carenShe’d take the place uptown,nbut daddy’s second ex lives therenand they don’t get alongnnNow she is an artist, has a home in Astor PlacenShe paints her view of 7A and practices the bassnShe memorizes poetry to help her compensatenShe isn’t smart enoughnNow the name’s unfamiliarnAnd the face does not ring a bellnDon’t believe all that you readnShe had so much yesterday…nBut I guess that’s how it goesnit goes away (la-la-la-la)nAudrey’s daddy dies one dayn(so young for heaven’s sake)nShe planted twenty little pillsninside his birthday cakenShe paid off Cal the coronernon the first night of the wakenSoon she’ll have enoughnMr Macy wasn’t crazy,nshe was out to killnA clever man, he spent it all,nleft nothing in the willnNow daddy’s little girl willnhave to work to pay the billsnShe’ll never have enough, never quite enoughnIt’s never quite enough