With Lips Painted So Perfectly

With lips painted so perfectly, And eyes as hollow as a rotten tree She haunts my dreams, killing me Who is this woman Whose hatred for me burn brighter than the hottest flames on the surface of the sun Who is this woman This mistress of melancholy She is me I am she Oh, can’t you see I am not what I once was And I despise what I’ve become Look into this mirror and all that I see Is a plastic doll But no It’s just me A shell of a soul with no hope left Fake and phony That is what I am I do not like what I see in my reflection And although I may cry on the inside I plaster a smile onto my face With lips painted so perfectly And eyes as hollow as a rotten tree