Permanent marks are stains in the soul of the








Smiling nails that’s hammered down in the eyes that








Stuck with glue forcing the face to stay inside out which








Connects the sharp brows that make your flows fall down








Like feathers causing perfect imperfections to sob leading








Your lonely skin to cover behind blemishes that’s playing








Hide in seek make you fall over your moody bump hills







Making your skin then to peal apart like dried paint in the








Heated sun but you Prefer foundation particles compacting








Your face mask