They aborted it from her when they sold her the the false perfection elixir that soul'd her out
Hook, line, and sink her gut her, fillet her.
Ctrl-alt-del the fetus, the sacrifice of the inner-child. Molested into the machinery of Moloch
He butchered the absolute heart of the poem of life out of her body.
She stands naked goddess-less kicked into the prison pit of existence
Now she's like *everybody. She's nobody.
This is an excerpt from a song I wrote from my Soul Punkera. It's titled "Fashioning the Object" It is influenced by an art exhibit of the same name I saw in Chicago a couple years back. It really changed my perspective on the way our beauty standards are flawed, and the disenchantment of the suffering models are put through to obtain perfection. A lot of the Soul Punkera itself is influenced by Ginsberg's Howl. So I make several references to it.