Lipstick, a face mask.The shaved calves and forearms.Shaved to bone.The seams lined, a fox fur.On high heels, the shape matter.Topped with a swan feather.
But she lives in man.Althought she´s radical.
A painting, a flower.It´s rather a bit harder.Report is radical.She´s shaking her bones.As if she was a dancer.Without a way, as any other day.It´s just another day.
But she lives in man.Althought she´s radical.The clothes won´t make herself a person.
Chained her feelings tight in a firm core.Sold the trust in tales for a firm core.Thin lips, squeezed jaws.The trained flirt, the game slows.Then late note.She´s shaking the bones.Yet the life´s so cruel.She´s shaking the bones.Thought, she´d make it through she´d make it trought.
But she lives in man.Althought she´s radical.The clothes won´t make herself a person.But she lives in man.Althought she´s radical.
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