a compulsive liar with a little grief
dancing with the stars
a great love for the big bad things
caught inside a jar
a stained carpet with many foot prints
but big feet to stomp around
concealed lips with threats to keep
my tongue from making a sound
well that's a lie and we both can't tell
whichever is the truth
so I'll talk and talk going on and on
spitting immense bs at you
a taste for danger stuck on my lips
red ones to be exact
spoiled at the touch of those finger tips
once on they can't be detached
I'll spread through you like with fire
chemical based and immune
always dressed in disguised attire
now I'm sleeping with the moon
