Oct 31 23
The masks people wear
cold, but such care;
and oh how they stare
from those holes
though.
The folly of their ways,
pompous, fickle knaves;
but oh they just dance
to their graves
though.
You lie in your bed.
You lie in your head.
And you’ll lie when you’re dead.
It’s all the same,
below.
So look into the glass
at that precious waxy mask
and know that it won’t last
nothing will,
no.
🎃
cold, but such care;
and oh how they stare
from those holes
though.
The folly of their ways,
pompous, fickle knaves;
but oh they just dance
to their graves
though.
You lie in your bed.
You lie in your head.
And you’ll lie when you’re dead.
It’s all the same,
below.
So look into the glass
at that precious waxy mask
and know that it won’t last
nothing will,
no.
🎃