They use their pretty faces everyday
And look with disapproval to the slightest display of  self expression
But there is always a seemless crack
Hidden by lyes of the past and false promises of the future
Flonting their pretty face in the presence of a king
Masquerading their rotting corpses by disguising it with an expensive coffin
As for all the pretentious souls, those pretty faces aren't so pretty, behind the closed doors of solitude