I slip your lies into my skin,
beauty plastic and skin deep
watched by those eyes again
tonight there will be no sleep.
And there's frost on the window,
too cold to remember if I feel
white to blue falling so low
what's it mean to be real?
There is more to this than breathing
or at least so we believe,
until hearts ripped open bleeding
show us how well you can deceive.
A murderer of this queen of hearts
still she doesn’t shout, "Off with his head!"
Murder was your greatest of arts
perfected as you watched as she bled.
So, I slip your lies into my skin
let them cut these veins who weep,
for the plastic flesh of a mannequin
whose beauty was only skin deep.