Takes off his clothes
A birthmark
Tweaks his skin
And through the window
Is he made like a god
She measures the lips red
From the hill they burst< br/>And turns on the TV
Turns her skin
Pale & Yellow
Turns on the TV
Turns anyone ugly
Me hate you
You are
I hold my hand for
But there is a help
So จÂ¥ I see ÃḈ¤ndÃḈฃÂ¥
If you knew how ridiculous
You look
And I run for the city
Slà Cars sound alarms
I am the boy
Who shot the rocket
In my own hand
It there is no one
Who can fix
A broken hand
I hate you
You are.