Your paper mache face slowly disintegrates and falls from your cardboard bones
The salt from the pools in your eyes create sharks with heavy appetites, looking for something to bite, and you look tasty

Your wooden eyes have begun to rot and splinter the inside of your eyelids
And the wood shards create stitches, leaving your tear ducts swollen and pinned to the rest of your surrounding skin

The porcelain inside my mouth creates lies with every light it reflects as it shines
And the moon is the only one who really knows what it is that I want out of life
The chilly, stone lips pucker up to give me a kiss, so cold on my skin that I freeze up from it

The fact remains, we're always going to be oil and water
Two things that just don't mix
That's chemistry, babe, which is something I'm pretty sure we are supposed to have
And if it isn't there, why did we bother to take this class for zero credits?