This is no show we can go slow cuz I don't know how to throw snow. Everything is always on fire, with crackling, roaring flames burning shames, names, bridges and everything the same...
So far beyond an open book just pages on the floor, you can go ahead and look if you know what you're searching for, but there's a fine line between flowing and bleeding, an even finer one between knowing and believing and **** near none at all between showing and deceiving.
It's more about what you're taking than what you're leaving, what you're hearing than what you're seeing. Peering through that looking glass I can tell you can't see past all the cracks, that's why you ask where I got this mask.
I made it myself; do you like it? I can see it on your face you don't love it at all... If you don't want to dance you can stand against the wall and if you don't want to fall, you can lay down and crawl. Just keep moving through the crowd then, but you can't stop my sound from pounding your thoughts just as it stops; I trace your face.
And with nothing left to ask from you I have one last task for you. I made a mask for you it's petite and small but can cover it all, so put it on my love. Welcome to my Masquerade Ball