It's hard to be beautiful when Earth sees you as the same,

When everything's lumeless and stars won't even show,

You keep getting put down because your sorrow's not a show,

You dress hot and icy cold, but it's as if no one even knows,

What does it matter, that my life is rotting, the fumes resonate into botanical mansions,

Holding rare flowers, and the blue carnation, so existence is at peace without my part,

Without diamonds without gold, lacking hugs when it's cold,

Getting sick, not getting better, forgetting to cry, lying on the floor, crying just once, crying blood, but no one hears,

It's getting old,

Can you see a young lady smeared with the face of a raccoon, charred with memoirs of a lonely planet?

You see nothing that resembles me,

If I did you see you would watch me copy your road to happiness and stalk you like tomorrow would never come,

You would see me only in a dream, standing atop, with my nonexistent beloved, the bright lit city,

With a candle in my left hand and the other a bottle of wine,

If only your life could switch with empty mine, you'd see my act is a drama reflecting life,

That is a feast in which I will never dine.