Her hair is put up
With a ribbon,
Like all dolls will have to show.

She'll walk the halls with her Flock,
Pointing and laughing,
At the sheep who don't have nice wool..
At the ones who don't smell so nice.

Her fellow clones always knew
Which test tube was theirs,
Or which toilet to throw up in,
Or what replica hand bag to laugh at.

But if her hair fell out of place,
Or if she tripped out of her step,
And scuffed her leather dull,
What would they whisper next?

Well, like a doll without a box of artificial air,
And like an animal without food,
She would die in her test tube..
With the blank stare and all,
Gracing her pretty little face.

Yeah, too bad artificial air is in..
And sticking your finger down your throat is so fucking cool..
Yep, living in a world of test tubes is what the popular ones do.

But in a world of flocks,
Scientific experiments,
And Barbie friends..
Who would know?
Who would care?
 
Copyright © woogome27, All Rights Reserved