She’s a whimsical, tragical beauty. Self-conscious and a little bit moody.
She’s a melted avocado on the shelf.
She’s the science of herself.
She’s spazzing out on a cosmic level.
And she’s meditating with the devil.
She’s cooking salad for breakfast.
She’s got tofu the size of Texas.
She’s a witness to her own glory.
She’s a never-ending story.
She’s a frolicking depression.
She’s a self-inflicted obsession.
She’s got a thousand lonely husbands.
She’s playing footsie in another dimension.
She’s a goddess milking her time for all that it’s worth.