Believe in the mask that sits on her face,
or believe in the lies within the leather and lace.
She's not okay, not anymore.
She hasn't been for awhile, since they all call her a whore.
Everyone must talk about the unknown,
leaving a girl little room to have grown.
Conforming to everyone standards and ways,
she starts to lose track of her days.
She is living her life, yet barely living at all.
She's walking around so numb, even a hill seems too tall.
Finally giving up, she collapses to the ground,
not even bothering to stand for another round.
no one is around to give her a hand,
but then again, she is use to being a one man band.