6ix

She doesn't like to be stared at, pounding foundation into her pores. 75 cents for your art of betrayal. I've aligned the stars, cancer spreads and disregards. Here's to the lies you've spread of old, I can tell your miserable in your ramblings. You can't even kiss me for the shame! But I will only wipe said kiss away! Jeckyl and Miss Hyde, after you shoot your personality in your vein. How can you turn such a blind eye? Lies are like stigmatism; it sits and crusts into a stye. Prolong; you don't want to sweat off your makeup raising your voice with your lips painted red. Sick, co-dependent; An iris and a pusher. Dilated pupils for a systematic promise. We eat at the table of bigots, liars and thieves. No remorse for the lower class as they change the wine to bleach