(The) Internet Killed The Video Star

Burn the instructions or plague the inventor?
 Quick, easy, and painless
 I'm a careless romantic
 Wandering the streets
 Luring strangers in the dark
 If they follow in my footsteps
 Then I'll love them all blind
 If you want to make a scene
 Then you've gotta make a scene
 I'll put my hands on you
 You put your hands on me
 If you want to make a scene
 I wasn't looking for trouble
 But trouble found me
 You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch.
 I caught you staring it's not your fault
 I killed the lights 'cause I saw it all
 I caught you staring it's not your fault
 I kissed your lips but not for too long
 Tick tock, tick tock;
 the hour is up
 Told to be anxious
 You're a bit out of line
 Sew it up like every other time
 Un-amused at the table by the bedroom
 They're all mine
 If you want to make a scene
 Then you've gotta make a scene
 You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch
 You put your hands on me
 I'll put my hands on you
 You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch
 Sew it up like every other time
 So in love like every other time
 The needle and thread make me shiver
 The red on your hands spells out martyr
 (I caught you staring it's not your fault)
 I killed the lights 'cause I saw it all
 (I caught you staring it's not your fault)
 I swear to God I watched you fall
 Your perfect picture left its mark
 I kissed your lips but not for too long