(no subject)
She's animate and debonair, but now our judgements lie
In mistaken ideals and tradgedies, All come about; Her eyes
She's drunk; the world's a better place
It dare not cut her form
She's numb, the boy raises her skirt
And appraises just how torn.
She is.
Her skin without is porcelin, her skin within is gold
And yet she uses sex and touch, to make the glitter hold
He saw her face, he'll be displaced
More victim to her guile
She knew he knew I loved him too
But hides it in her smile.
Their hearts break or exaggerate, that single kiss,
Or several now, your will to bow, You can't resist
She's yours, she's his, she's everyones
Her pretty words and laquored lips
The tiger eye with green trapped fly
Upstage art-fingertips.
In mistaken ideals and tradgedies, All come about; Her eyes
She's drunk; the world's a better place
It dare not cut her form
She's numb, the boy raises her skirt
And appraises just how torn.
She is.
Her skin without is porcelin, her skin within is gold
And yet she uses sex and touch, to make the glitter hold
He saw her face, he'll be displaced
More victim to her guile
She knew he knew I loved him too
But hides it in her smile.
Their hearts break or exaggerate, that single kiss,
Or several now, your will to bow, You can't resist
She's yours, she's his, she's everyones
Her pretty words and laquored lips
The tiger eye with green trapped fly
Upstage art-fingertips.