Cinched at the waist, Lord knows I never waste time with a chase,
For my air is a taste of existence, Marie full of grace-
Tangled in Egyptian while the sun comes alive,
I blink my eyes and contrive a humble disguise,
a deceit for the cries and a war for the wives
I’m stunning I know, but I’m the cheapest of wines.
a distortion of truth, I fall asleep in the lies
I’m confined to this grind, building shards up my spine
a carnivore of the ages, family of the swine
drenched in ruby and lines of white and cakes that confine,
me to this lavish perception of the masks that align
the halls of this castle, between the curtains and flies