Don't speak to me don't be polite to me Your f*cking smile conceals your violence Its no longer private - our bodies for sale You think we don't know what's going on here? How do we fit into this? I saw her face falling onto the floor A magazine, to fool men into wanting more A neverending cycle of pit stop love and confusion is pure Joy for capitalists
They know your scent, they've planned everything out A haunted house with a vile bubbly soundtrack Snap snap Beauty is defined by people with a need to scare and manipulate Her body is formed as a commodity A pricetag? this person is not property Her body for sale The right time They know when to strike How do we fit into this?