(no subject)
you're an ashtray girl
with those fake eyelashes you stole from your mother,
whose sleeping on the couch in a half-drunken state,
she'll never be saved.no,she'll never be saved.
and your lust for stars burns on your tongue
as you suck in the tar from a lit blue cigarette,
"take my pretty picture,i'm what the cameras want."
but they're unimpressed with the circles under your eyes,
and the make-up that makes even you cough.
you broke every mirror,
your worn out complexion never shows itself right on the polished glass.
with those fake eyelashes you stole from your mother,
whose sleeping on the couch in a half-drunken state,
she'll never be saved.no,she'll never be saved.
and your lust for stars burns on your tongue
as you suck in the tar from a lit blue cigarette,
"take my pretty picture,i'm what the cameras want."
but they're unimpressed with the circles under your eyes,
and the make-up that makes even you cough.
you broke every mirror,
your worn out complexion never shows itself right on the polished glass.