These painted faces
Haven’t seen many places
A dusty shelf they call their home
A fake self is all they have known
They dress up and make up and
In the morning they wake up
All alone on their shelves
All by their lonesome selves

These painted faces
Will tell you what “good” taste is
Their smiles are painted on
Their happiness is long gone
But they know how to get what they want
They know how, where and what to flaunt

These painted faces
Are all dressed up in laces
They play with their food
Always in the mood
To play with their toys
And play with their boys

These painted faces
Have many shallow graces
Have one shape and one size
Have malice in their eyes
And have hearts full of lies,
But painted faces are lonely
Because in the end they only
Ever come home
To shallow, hollow selves
And shallow, hollow lies
To dusty, empty shelves
And dusty, empty lives