my actions do not reflect my desires
my vanity echoes through my mind
until it is expressed
i am the image of my soul,fully dressed
a vessel for thoughts that haven't happened yet
i speak in a language that does not make sense
until it is filtered and dispensed
as something that should not be
the echoes of my voice will never die
and they will always be heard
as long as there's someone to listen
but does anyone really listen
i am an automobile
killing everything i dont need
listen to the wind change
as the earth bleeds
the leaves turn over when i walk by
you don't look pretty until the sun dies
is this you or just the impression i get from you
what is that my heart is stuck to
and why is it so important
this is vanity
i realize this as my words echo my insanity
the windows of my soul
are fogged by you
is there any greater whore
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