Your Rusted Lungs, My Exhaled Air (In The Back of a Van At Four in The Morning)

The poetry of smoke,
Floating, floating,
Though a sea of night breeze.
Toxic girls and boys;
Say a prayer tonight,
To a god who doesn't listen.

Rusty lungs and rusty eyes,
Left to water too long.
A forgotten record, scratched to perfection.
Points of view, all end up in a padded room.
Girl made machine,
Don't believe me?

Blank TV, curled up inside yourself.
We all fall down.
Some just fall harder than others.
The ending to a novel no one bought.
We changed as the seasons did,
Grew apart and grew up, vines.

Makeup used to hide yourself,
Make yourself perfect.
It didn't work, did it?

All you are now is a pathetic little girl.
Rusted lungs and broken bones,
Plastic surgery overload,
Girls who want to be made of plastic,
Isn't this place just fucking fantastic?

Hope you have fun.