Roll up, there's another piece on sale
of rotted trendyness, in absence it prevails
sitting atop the throne of a plucky survivor
my mind useless, my body designer

I'm not a hero, I'm not a ***** - probably both
changing skin like fashion, both corrupt and gross -
oh do you like my hair, my bulging ****** excess?
I moisturised my face today with feaces and ground insects

eyes diamonds swamped in a pool of lies
followed by a scent of longing whilst inside swarms flies
thinking we know beauty, we ****** for fear others will take
but on the outside its easy to fabricate, to fake

I smell of roses today, oh yes I'm soo exquisite
killing in the name of love, juvenile and disgustingly delinquent
destroying myself to create a new persona I can own
but how can you have something that's already gone

one thousand suits I have with no happiness to show
I'll sell you a million, it's in desperation greed grows,
smiling sweetly as I descend into the land of sensual dreams
whilst inside my morality fits and screams

there's another piece on sale
no longer fashionable but frail
dragged from the tears of an unlucky survivor,
my mind's useless, my body bedazzling

*oh I'm designer!