The Game
She's plasticShe's speed-readA classic line between the linesFantastic and half-deadHis tactic blind to warning signsHer clashes of colorsAre flashes of societyIn ashesHis dollars like posters of a tragic love story
See the puppet master laughAstride a pale horseAnd take another photographFor selfie intercourseReading out the epitaphOf our pointless warsFor love we will tear us down
He's shooting at shadowsPortraying a proper soldier boyShe's thinking in logosStill searching for the real McCoyBroadcasters, they've got thisDisasters a wasp of a satireLike actors who French kissRight after someone stole their fire
See the puppet master laughAstride a pale horseAnd take another photographFor selfie intercourseReading out the epitaphOf our pointless warsFor love we will tear...
Us down that beaten path she treadsMirage the blushing bride he wedsYesterday's diamonds and pearlsNow worthless trinkets in their worldThe salty tang of bloodSensations running hotSnow blindness in pitch darknessMindless rageAnd then you...
See the puppet master laughAnd take another photograph
See the puppet master laughAstride a pale horseAnd take another photographFor selfie intercourseReading out the epitaphOf our pointless warsWhen loveLove could be our crown