| Lenses, out of focus
|
| Edits, everyone
|
| Pretending, we’re not broken but the
|
| Truth is, we’re all mixing
|
| Pigments, filtering our fiction
|
| To look like golden
|
| Living by the brushstroke
|
| Of the rules that we can’t let go
|
| Keeping up appearances
|
| For people that we don’t know
|
| Smiling for the cameras
|
| Flash floods on the inside
|
| We all take pretty pictures
|
| But beauty is a lie
|
| Hide behind the canvas
|
| Fear burns like a forest fire
|
| We all paint pretty pictures
|
| But beauty is a lie
|
| We can’t be our own
|
| Curators, we’re all imitators
|
| Who can’t think for themselves
|
| Following the leaders
|
| That will lead us to the front line
|
| Only see the world
|
| Framed by someone else’s eyes
|
| Smiling for the cameras
|
| Flash floods on the inside
|
| We all take pretty pictures
|
| But beauty is a lie
|
| Hide behind the canvas
|
| Fear burns like a forest fire
|
| We all paint pretty pictures
|
| But beauty is a lie
|
| Smiling for the cameras
|
| Flash floods on the inside
|
| We all take pretty pictures
|
| But beauty is a lie
|
| Hide behind the canvas
|
| Fear burns like a forest fire |
| We all paint pretty pictures
|
| But beauty is a lie |