She's A Painting Outta Focus With No Good Sense Of Intention She's Authentic

She's A Model Of Disaster With A Heart Of Revolution

She's So Innocent, But Guilty's Her Plea

Everybody Wants To Save Her From Herself, They Really Want To Save Themselves



She's Got The Grace, Of A Tourist, With The Charm Of Demolition

She's A Poem Without Meter Or Rhyme A Random Design Of A Flower Like A Rose No One Really Knows

She's A Master Piece Desreving Restoration Or Condemnation Time Will Tell Us

If She's A Lifer Or A Decomposuer She's The Rose No One Really Knows