She's a fake.
Her photoshopped eyes never showed much meaning.
Beauty in the clinic line,
She’s a fake.
When she’s always lying awake.
But I’m still standing here for our big brake.
Your souls the meaning of disappointment
As I’m hitting the brick walls of a scratched dent.
Come on, carry on, tell me you're really there.
Baby, I’m no beggar, to such an extent.
You crash the gates as Mother Mary
But as a replica of the worthy, you’re not worth it.
As the desirable air only called you’re name.
Tell me love, you’re real.
Not a figment of my imagination, without the boundaries.
She’s got a lovely face; she’s got a tasty waist.
But I’m wasted in that.
Beauty in the clinic line,
She’s a fake.
When she’s always lying awake.
But I’m still standing here for our big brake.
Your souls the meaning of disappointment
As I’m hitting the brick walls of a scratched dent.
Come on, carry on, tell me you're really there.
Baby, I’m no beggar, to such an extent.
You crash the gates as Mother Mary
But as a replica of the worthy, you’re not worth it.
As the desirable air only called you’re name.
Tell me love, you’re real.
Not a figment of my imagination, without the boundaries.
She’s got a lovely face; she’s got a tasty waist.
But I’m wasted in that.