There is no beauty in this world
Everything is fake-plastic madness
You were suppose to be my demi-god
You were suppose to part the waters
Perfection lost among deception
A mind that could do no wrong, tainted
I built you a temple fit for a king
And sat you atop it prettily for all to see
But you trampled my fine artistry
And sneered at the dedication of love

Pretty little boy of mine

Pretty little boy of mine

love is a story we tell children
it is suicide prevention taken to extremes

There is no beauty in your frigid heart
You're only fake-plastic sadness
Time carries with it a certain stench
And I am smothered in it's degradation
That pathetic little girl cowering in the corner
That isnt me.

You were suppose to be my demi-god
You were suppose to part the waters

Pretty little boy of mine

When did this become a game to you?
I'm down and you kick me in the side.