oh, you look so good in your pretty pretty pictures. posing for the camera in front of your bright yellow brick wall. you say how its all about me me me, and how everyone wants a piece of you you you. but we just love to stare at your pretty pretty pictures. we want a piece of the american dream. too bad you're a goddamn alien or you would have made it big in your big hollywood scene. smoke smoke smoke your way into addiction and inject your powder puff dreams. rail it hard baby, harder harder harder. throw your head back, smear the blood all across your perfectly powdered cheek and then tell me who its all about.
tell me all about your favorite adjectives, baby. look towards the sky and and flutter your eight foot eyelashes while i remove the gun from my waistband and shatter your disaster attitude. you mix your eyeshadow like you mix your drinks: bright colors and lots of depressants. your right about one thing, honey, you are the picture perfect dream. now shimmy shimmy shimmy under the bright lights on stage and let us envy your tiny tiny waist and your translucent skin.
change your name and add a sense of freedom because your whole facade is based on how you just cant escape. oh you poor poor wounded butterfly, let me set you free.
your a mess of suicidal scars and arrogance. the picture perfect concoction of disguist.
your mirror has shattered, baby doll and it's not us with the tear-streaked vision. you're all a blur and we love the scent you leave behind. the scent of death, decay and destruction. your a self injury princess but suddenly cutting is the thing to do. you showed us how, oh you hollywood.prom.queen. so you're scars add to your beauty and you have to convince us your pain is real. we've seen you in books and in magazines but didn't think you existed outside your shiny paper world. P.S. babyface, YOU DONT.
people bend over backwards to kiss your shoes. you kick them in the face when they ask "can you please please please do my make up." but oh how i dont blame you...because i would shoot anything that moved, too. especially if i were the queen of paralysis. you love to swear because it looks good coming out of your burgundy lipstick clad suicide scar of a mouth. you love how people hate you, you hate how people adore you. but you make yourself up like a plastic malibu barbie so people will fall at your feet and tell you what a goddess you are. because now your methamphetamine rushes just arent enough anymore.
im ok i guess. im sore but whatever :|
im sorry that you cant properly wash and comb your hair and put on your purdyful makeup. i'll do it for you ^_^ tehe
♥