That strives for perfection,
Driving ourselves deep into the ground,
Always sensing rejection.
The monster is our hero ine,
Taking over our souls,
Depriving us of living,
Gaining all control.
They've got the strings
Under their rein,
Parading all girls around like lifeless puppets,
Knowing they've got all to gain.
Theatrical eyeliner-rimmed eyes we've got,
Glossy waves of tumbling hair.
With the strings tied around us and their fingers, like a game,
They drive us deep into the ground, and don't really care.
It's nothing foreign,
The bitterness new,
Radiation exposed to the innocent
Living without a clue.
But lying in your bed, the tube laughing in your face,
You turn your head onto your pillow and close your heavy eyes,
Diving into shallow sleep,
Slipping away from the lies.