"Sweety, you clash so perfectly..."
Catty whispers behind bare backs,
"I'm so hungry..." "NO! No snacks."
Eight inch heels,
malnutrition,
something doesn't add up here.
Too thin to be pretty,
the appearance wretched,
down to the nitty-gritty.
Get to the end of the runway,
thirty feet and back...not that far...
Listen to that cliche music play...
Go by the beat, go by the sound.
No need to see...
Eight inch heels,
malnutrition,
something doesn't add up here.
"FUCK YOU! I'MA EAT A POPTART, MOM!"
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