I don't have to be a doctor
To see you're damaged goods
Damaged by the goods that betrayed you
Too pretty to go untouched for too long
Too achy to not arch in surprise from finger taps
You've painted pretty pictures just to cry in disgust
You can't go around destroying works of sensation

Mona Lisa you hate your smile
The little Mermaid always loses her head
Venus de Milo can't open her arms for anyone
Mona Lisa, turn that lip
Grab that hip, you're sexy when you doubt yourself

I don't need to be a genius
To know you're fucked up from the neck up
Shoulders down, cascading gold and perfection
All your photos contain corrections
Mirrors covered in blood designed as self portraits
Nose buried in books someone else wrote, entitled "self help"
All of your messages from God appear on television

Mona Lisa you hate your smile
The Mermaid feels about a head short
Venus de Milo can't ever feel another soul
Mona Lisa, turn that lip
Grab that hip, you're sexy when you try a little

I don't need to be here with you
To feel deep in my chest that your gaze is dangerous
Gazed into my eyes, I was frozen looking upon your face
Yet my fingers still caught you by surprise
Drifting down your spine
Scars make the skin a bumpy road
I don't need to see the past to know what itch was scratched
Medusa, let down your hair, I like the coils
Don't try to be statue-esque, I'd rather you keep moving

Mona Lisa thinks I hate her smile
The little Mermaid always loses her head
Venus de Milo can do naught but smile at my touch
Mona Lisa, bite that lip
Grab that hip, you're sexy when you need convincing