ten million lines
make up your beautiful face;

they are not your face.

without what's inside,
lines are equivalent to lies;

they are not your face.

the exact same lines
that are in you are in me,

but I am not you.

nobody can know
what isn't already there.

what more can there be?

we are made of lines,
the lines are not made of us;

they are not your face.